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unicornpopcorn14 · 4 months

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13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Do not-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

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yanderemommabean · 1 year

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Andy the bull man with darling who had a heat stroke well working because they wouldn’t drink water/ kept putting it off because right after this task I’ll drink water. 👀

Your writing is amazing keep it up mama!

He’d be gentle waking you up if you passed out. Softly nudging you and pouring cool water on you a bit hoping it would help. He’ll hold your head steady as he helps you to drink, scolding you like a worried lover as you gulp and try to come back to reality.

“Working this hard only to get hurt. You should think for yourself more! If I lost you I’d rot from within!”

You try to apologize, coughing and weakly trying to speak as the heat still pummels you and makes you want to throw up and die. Andy’s smart however, he knows what you were silently asking of him.

He picks you up gingerly, doing his best to cool you with his tail as he carries you to the house, knowing most farm creatures weren’t allowed inside. But he isn’t just some creature, he’s your mate, no matter how much you try to deny it.

He chuffs against you affectionately as he asks you were the bath is, and you’re so delirious you don’t question it as you guide him to the tub where he turns on the cold water after a few confused (and adorably cautious) tries.

You’re carefully stripped, laid into the basin as he almost whines, wanting to make sure you’re alright as you yelp and shiver from the change in temperature. It wasn’t ice cold but even cool water in heat like this can feel like the arctic!

You softly pet his head, thanking him as you slowly come back to yourself, soaking in the situation and how bad it could’ve gotten. “I’m sorry I made you do this”

“What? You didn’t make me do anything. No one can. I can beat anyone. I’m bigger”

You snort at that, shaking your head as you relax into the water. He’s such a sweetheart without even knowing it. “Thank you anyway. Just, don’t tell the others you got to see me naked”

“Why would I? Anyone picturing my mate naked will be swiftly obliterated”.

-Mommabean ((hope this was ok!()

#mommabean #yandere exophilia #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere male #andy my oc #andy the bullman #Mommabean

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toweroftunes · 3 months

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You’re the SteinMarie person right? Can you talk about what you like about them and their dynamic? 😊

Hi! Hello! Sorry for the delay in getting to this ask but thank you for asking me!!

Idk if I’m the SteinMarie person, but I guess we could say I’m one of them??

Hmm, I think I could say that there are two parts to why I like them.

One is that they’re both just. Silly.

Stein gets a lot of attention because of his neurodivergence — for not being able to properly connect with or understand people, and his way of going about it being concerning to say the least. But I’d like to point out that Stein is. Silly. He’s a smartass and an asshole. When he first meets Spirit again in the series, he jokes to him about his wife knowing full well that they’re divorced. He also says that he’d switched his toes during surgery. In the NOT series, he makes a replica of a girl’s head to scare said girl’s friends with. And Marie is introduced to us by way of her deciding to marry a toilet, then pummeling said toilet when she suspects even the toilet of infidelity. Furthermore when confronting the man who killed Marie’s ex, Stein spins and dips Marie. Absolutely ridiculous.

The other is that while they might be externally presented as ridiculous, they don’t view each other as such; rather they don’t view each other as solely scary, or solely silly, but they actually perceive one another as serious people. And, yes, this is my own reading of it — I think that Marie and Stein are willing to understand each other in ways that others don’t.

On the surface Stein is a perceived as a genius with low emotional intelligence, and disregard for others. And Marie, on the surface, is an overly emotional person who people perceive as obsessed with finding love, starting a family, etc. However, these two are able to express patience, support, and trust for one another outside of these roles/assignments/perceptions.

When Naigus tells Marie that Stein isn’t capable of love, Marie follows him anyway. Not because she thinks he’s capable or incapable of love, but because she trusts that he did not kill BJ. Because she wants to catch BJ’s killer, and because she doesn’t want Stein to go through it all alone.

Stein, in turn, doesn’t question Marie moving into his lab when Lord Death places her as his partner. Instead he exercises patience and support for her moving across the world, for her putting her life and other goals on hold because she holds herself responsible in her duty as a Death Scythe. He also doesn’t question her investment in others as being frivolous; her investment in finding BJ’s killer isn’t about a romantic option being taken away from her, but about giving BJ justice, which Stein is likewise willing to help her do because, yes their interests align, but also because I think he respects the principal of it (this could also go into a whole tangent on Stein’s mental/ideological support system through partnership but I’ll not get into that now).

Patience. Support. Trust.

I think it’s a common reading that Marie makes him better because of her healing wavelength, or because she knows how to take care of him. I hate this interpretation, tbh. I won’t say that that’s not real or how it’s written, because it is in the sense that Medusa and Marie are foils of one another in a fairly reductive way: Medusa as the villain without motherly/caretaker instinct, one who abuses Crona, corrupts Stein, and Marie as the hero with motherly/caretaker instinct, one who comforts Crona, heals Stein. Her goodness in this sense is tied to her ability to be a caretaker and a mother. Blegh.

Marie's goodness is linked to her own principles of justice and kindness, imo. And Stein isn’t someone who needs to be guided so much as someone who needs his own insecurities around his sense of morality challenged.

Agh, sorry this is so long. And also sorry if it isn’t super coherent? I hope it makes a modicum on sense lol. And again, thank you for the ask!

#steinmarie #franken stein #marie mjolnir #soul eater #tower talks #asks

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moonlit-imagines · 2 years

Text

Glory of Love

Peter Parker x reader

warnings:

a/n: personally apologizing to everyone for how long this is taking

prompt: anonymous: “Hey!! Congratulations 🥳 on ✨6K followers!!!✨Can I please request a song prompt blurb of TASM!Peter Parker x romantic!reader + Glory of Love by Peter Cetera, please? Thank you so much!!! 💙”

“Look, before you say anything—” Peter was immediately cut off as you ran right into him arms, “…I’m an idiot, I know.” The door stayed ajar while you two hugged it out in the hallway of your apartment building. “I don’t want to have you worry about me all the time and I do it anyway and I just need you to know that you are always on my mind and everything I do I always think of what it would do to you.” He just kept rambling while you were silent. “Are you okay, hey?”

“I’m fine, you just talk too much.” You mumbled into his shoulder and he let out a much-needed chuckle. “Stay here tonight?” The question made him melt into your arms. He hummed his agreement to you and slowly closed the door behind you.

Peter ordered delivery for the two of you, a chance to make up for his absence and for you having to see him pummeled once again. He hadn’t even shown you what markings lie beneath his clothes, but he knew you’d look soon and only hide your worry for him more.

He always wondered why you stayed, he always caused you trouble. His muscles ached all over, but your heart would whenever he way away. The cuts stung when cleaned, but what stung more was the reality that he might not be around forever, and certainly not if you left him. You loved him, and that meant looking out for him. He was doing the sane for you each time he put on that suit, because who knows when that innocent bystander in the crossfire of a criminal could be you.

“Ah, damn.” You calmly whispered, dragging your fingers lightly across a six-inch bruise on Peter’s lower back. He laid on the bed, propped up on his side by his elbow and continuing to eat his pizza. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I move.” Peter told you, turning his neck to see your masked worry. “Here, come on, y/n, take a slice.” He grabbed you your own slice and then the TV remote. “I’ll live, you know I will.” You frowned, lying down beside him and beginning to eat your meal. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Whatever you want.” You mumbled through a mouthful, scooting closer to him so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders. He chuckled and kissed you in the forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere, you got that?” Peter comforted you as your mind raced. “I know how it looks, but I’ll always be here for you. All I want is to keep you safe.” He paused, waiting for you to answer.

“I don’t wanna think about it, Pete, it’s okay. I’d rather just watch a movie and spend a quiet night with you.” You looked at each other and smiled for a quick moment. “Alright, that’s enough. Turn on a movie, punk.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @mystic-writings // @scarthefangirl // @sweetjedi // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @milkiane // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @stitched-mouth // @ruvaakke // @rqmanoff // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @brutal-out-here // @elenavampire21 //

#tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #tasm imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #tasm x reader #tasm #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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couldawouldashoulda50 · 11 months

Text

The Distance and the Time Between Us

Part One - February, 2016

A/N - Part one starts at the beginning where Y/N and William first meet. You can read the Introduction here

Y/N is invited by the organization to do some light-hearted promotional video shorts to try and elevate the mood surrounding the Leafs (the team is having one of their worst seasons on record) and support the Marlies (their season is the polar opposite). I have never really written dialogue before and truthfully, I struggled with it so hopefully it's not too painful to read. Hopefully my French isn't too brutal either.

Warnings: mention of medical issues, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

Early February, 2016

“Okay, so the idea is that we’re going to test her knowledge about Sweden, and then in order to get a point, she also needs to shoot the puck in the net. Then we’ll flip it over to you and you will need to answer some questions about Canada and then do the same with the puck. Easy, right?” Amanda chuckles at William as he makes an indiscernible, possibly bordering on unimpressed, face.

“Why can’t you ask ME the Swedish questions…I mean, how hard are these questions anyway?'' William says, trying to coax the Marketing Manager into switching things up.

“Because we have to make it somewhat challenging - there’s no fun in making it too easy for you” Amanda laughs. “Plus, she may not know anything about Sweden so you could totally run away with this.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so…I’d rather not get pummeled and have the whole thing recorded…I’ll never live it down” William laughs. He finishes tying up the laces on his skates, exits the dressing room and joins the camera crew on the ice.

Not long after, you emerge from another dressing room of the practice facility for the Leafs and Marlies, decked out in a zip-up team jacket, dark tights and your hockey skates. You were provided with a customized Bauer stick to match the one the former first-round pick uses. You take a quick glance at your reflection in the glass and chuckle to yourself thinking, rather modestly, “it’s as good as it’s going to get”. You adjust the Leafs toque that was provided to you and open the latch to the gate.

You hop onto the ice, trying to contain the sheer excitement of even being at this rink. As a local girl, you were brought up watching the Leafs. At the age of 4, you found a souvenir from a Maple Leaf’s game that your Dad had attended. It was a glossy paged yearbook of the 1993/1994 Leafs roster and when your eyes fell upon Felix Potvin, the Leafs starting net minder, you were done…your little 4 year old heart fell head over heels in love with him. The adoration for Felix made you a fan, not just of the team, but of the game. It wasn’t an aspiration of yours to necessarily play hockey; the dreams of being a musician had already consumed your mind, body and soul. It was the skating; the power and speed behind every glide that held your focus as you watched each game. As a child, you took figure skating lessons but after years of struggling with some of the fundamentals due to your stout body structure, especially in your legs (making it difficult to do the ‘cross’ part of the ‘cut’), you dropped the lessons, and stayed away from participating in any on-ice activities.

Years later, your height nearly reaching 5’9” after some significant growth spurts, your body took a more shapely and athletic form, mainly as a result of swimming laps nightly at the community pool. Much like skating, the power and strength behind every movement with swimming laps appealed to you. It taught you focus while developing precise and efficient motion. You were a natural born worrier; the rhythm and repetition of gliding through water helped free you from the relentless chatter that plagued your mind.

With the changes to your frame allowing your legs to finally accomplish the menacing cross-cut, and you now making money from your band's pursuits, the power skating lessons began. With you being based in Britain at the time, it was challenging to find the exact program that you wanted. You resigned to being the only 5’8”, fully developed 18 year old female taking “ice-hockey lessons” as they called it, alongside 8 and 9 year old boys. You learned another valuable lesson during this time, learning to drown out the comments and unwanted input from those around you, in order to do what you love. It came in handy - at this point in time, being an up and coming band, you still found yourselves playing gigs in front of audiences where 20% wanted to hear you and 80% did not.

And here you are now, a superstar in your own right, invited by the Maple Leafs organization to make some promotional video shorts with members of the current Maple Leafs and Toronto Marlies teams. The Leafs were having a pretty tough season; the Marlies season was the polar opposite. The organization’s hope was that some light-hearted PR involving the once small-town Ontario girl, turned mega-celebrity, who happens to love both Toronto hockey teams, could help lighten the abysmal mood that infected the fan base.

As he chatted with Amanda, William watched you with interest as you skated towards the production team. He knows you - well, not exactly…he at least knows who you are. William was familiar with a few of your hits and generally liked some of your solo stuff but he was nowhere near the level of fandom of his three sisters. Even William’s younger brother, Alex, was an avid follower of yours but he mused it might be more about your physical beauty than your music.

Alex nearly jumped through the phone last night when William explained that he was doing a video segment with you the following day.

William hadn’t noticed his conversation with Amanda had completely trailed off; his eyes firmly set on you as you enthusiastically greeted each person on the set. You were simply luminescent, and William was honestly taken aback with your natural ability to put everyone at ease. Although you were the VIP of the day, you made everyone in the room feel like they were too.

William’s sky-blue eyes traced the side-profile of your face; butterflies started to form in his stomach when you glanced towards him and smiled. As he smiled back, the butterflies were replaced by an elephant stampede in his chest, and he began to feel an intense heat radiating from his cheeks.

You skated over to him and unbeknownst to you, he was actually nervous, despite his demeanor of appearing totally relaxed.

“Hey William” you said, extending your hand. “I’m Y/N - I’m so excited to meet you” you said, grinning your widest grin.

And as William grinned his widest grin back at you, there were two thoughts crashing in your mind at the same time - “Jesus - he’s fucking gorgeous” followed promptly by “he’s probably a prick so forget about it”.

“Nice to meet you too…. My sisters are huuuuuge fans of yours”, William said.

You smiled with appreciation “That’s awesome…please tell them thank you, from me, if you can. It’s always so nice to hear that.”

You paused - you didn’t want to pry, or sound intrusive but you saw the hit William took from the Swiss player at the World Juniors in December and had been on your mind since, given his connection with the Marlies.

Tentatively, you continued. “I saw some clips from the All-star Classic last week - it must have felt good to be back on the ice.

“Oh - you mean after the concussion”. You weren’t sure if William was embarrassed but he looked down towards the ice and ran his fingers through his luxurious blonde hair.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced “Yeah…I watched that game…” you trailed off, feeling really uncertain if you should say any more. “I’m so sorry - that hit on you was brutal.”

“It didn’t feel good, that’s for sure; should’ve kept my head up” he quipped. “But yeah, between that and my appendix almost bursting after that, I’m a lot better now”.

You kicked yourself mentally, hoping you hadn’t created an awkward moment; you were never one to handle uncomfortable silences very well.

In an attempt to recover, you look up at William with a smile.

“Well, I’m so glad to hear you’ve recovered. It looks like they’re almost ready…let’s get this rig rolling”, giving him a little wink and a slight nudge.

You turn to see that the crew has nearly finished setting up the lighting and Amanda is going through some details with the woman that will be hosting the segment. You skate off to join Amanda and the host to see if you can get some intel of the questions being asked.

Amanda calls William over and she begins to direct you to where you’ll both need to stand so the lighting casts perfectly over your faces.

A make-up artist appears, and begins to do some minor touch-ups to enhance your healthy glow, and applies a thin layer of gloss to your lips as an extra measure.

William watches as you raise your chin up and close your eyes, as brushes lightly graze over your features. It’s unnerving for him to look at you; he’s convinced that you’re one of the most strikingly beautiful women that he's ever met. And he’d met plenty of women, or girls, depending. At the young age of 19, he’d already gotten a taste of the boy-band level of popularity with many females in Toronto, looking to catch the attention of an up and coming hockey star. Add in all the girls he would meet during years of road trips, William never had to make an effort for girls to flock to him. Because of this, William found it difficult to establish a real connection beyond the overly available, yet casual, hook-ups which, most of the time, became complicated and messy.

Filming quickly gets underway and the host introduces you both, giving a quick history about each of you.

“OK Y/N - are you ready for the first question?” the host asks

“Absolutely” you say, smiling.

“What are the two colours on the Swedish Flag?”

Relieved it’s an easy question, you quickly answer “Blue and Yellow”. You position the puck just so and fire your shot, hitting the back of the net with ease.

William smiles and appears to be impressed as he raises an eyebrow and mouths the word “Wow”.

As the Swedish trivia challenge continued on, you managed to answer all of the remaining questions correctly, even blurting out the answer to the bonus question related to what type of government Sweden has (you’re not even sure how you knew the answer but nevertheless, you seemed to delight the onlookers). Better yet, your shots on net were pretty solid and each puck hit the netting, coupled with an audible swoosh.

More and more, William was finding himself completely captivated by you. Since he set his eyes on you, he sensed a massive contrast between you and the girls that he frequently came in contact with. William’s mind began to race with questions about you; he needed to know more about you. At the same time, and as self-assured as William normally was, the thought of asking a global celebrity for at least her number, had his stomach tied in knots.

William was up. Everyone knew he was a sniper, so obviously scoring was not going to be an issue. The questions related to Canada were generally the same as the Swedish ones, and William answered them with ease.

Each time you glanced at William, your heart started to race a little more. You had made a snap judgement about his personality, based solely on his exterior, which completely backfired on you. He proved to be warm and charming, with a smile that never seemed to leave his face. You contemplated if you had ever met a man who smiled as much as William seemed to.

The host’s voice brings you back down to earth.

“OK, William - in order to get to the bonus question, name three of your favourite Canadian music artists” the host asked, glancing over at you with a wink and a smile.

It seemed obvious enough that William would include you in the answer, since you were 8 feet away from him, but instead, he rhymed off Justin Bieber, Drake and The Weeknd. He shot the puck and satisfied with his response, smiled at the host.

There was an odd silence as the onlookers seemed surprised that William appeared to snub you, on camera no less.

William read the room and looked over at you with a confused look. You smiled back at him and shrugged your shoulders.

The host, trying to assess the situation, looking to find some humour in it, chuckles and says “Ok, I guess William’s not a fan of Y/N it seems” which was met with some low-key snickering from the crew.

“Wait - what?” William says, half laughing - his cheeks starting to burn. His expression was mostly like a deer caught in the headlights.

You, sensing his embarrassment, said “It’s all good…” you giggled and looked at the host “Those would be my choices…I’m not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea” you say modestly.

William’s head swiftly turned in your direction. His eyebrows lifted and his mouth dropped open as he realized his unintentional SNAFU.

The onlookers shook their heads and laughed; some came over and gave William some hearty pats on his shoulder, accompanied by some good natured ribbing.

You could see William trying to laugh it off but as he looked at you with a combined expression of awkwardness and unease, and your heart cracked a little for him.

The host waves her hands and grabs everyone’s attention again.

“Alright, William, moving along - for the bonus question. If you answer this correctly, then we’ll need a tie breaker between you and Y/N. The question is a geography based one”.

William groaned and his face lowered into his gloved hands.

The host continued, “How many territories are there in Canada?”

Someone in the group decided to quietly hum the Jeopardy theme song which was of no help to William.

William inhaled, squinted his face and apprehensively answered “2?”

“Ooooh - sorry William! Soooo clooooose!” the host says in faux dismay. “There’s actually 3”.

The host mercifully wraps up the segment declaring you the winner of the trivia challenge. William taps his stick on the ice as recognition, and everyone begins to disperse.

William makes his way over to you; his dazzling eyes are fixed on your face, a wide, almost mischievous grin, spans his angelic visage.

“Are you sure you’re not Swedish? I wasn’t sure I even knew all those answers” he joked.

“So…who’s your next victim with these shoots?” William asks coyly.

“Whoa - really…victim?” you answer feigning shock with a side of a phoney ‘how dare you’.

“Aren’t you the one who slayed me during this little stint…snubbing me entirely” you laughed, nudging William in the arm.

William groans “You have no idea how badly I’m going to be chirped about this. I really don't know what I was thinking. Fuck it - I’ll blame on it on the concussion.”

“Oh my gosh - honestly, it was really pretty funny. It wasn’t like you were saying I suck…unless that’s exactly what you were trying to say” you dead-panned, raising an eyebrow at him. “We might have a problem then if that's the case,” you joked.

William laughs “Tell you what…I do really feel bad…do you maybe want to grab something to eat later on, if you’re not busy?”

Your heart leapt inside your chest into your throat.

“I wish I could but I have plans with some old friends…I haven't seen them in ages so they’ll be pissed if I blow them off. I’m here for another week or so - maybe we can swing another time?” you said, hopefully.

“For sure…here…” Williams grabs his phone from his pocket “Can you add your number?”

William hands you the phone and you start typing the digits of your number. Under the contact name, you typed in "Can I be your #4?", saved it and handed the phone back to William. Amanda calls out for you and William to get a picture together so William quickly jams his phone back into his pocket and drapes his arm around your shoulder. You gently extended your arm around his waist thinking that seemed to be the only place on his body that made sense. With that mere touch, externally you smiled for the camera, but internally, were acutely aware of the faint but noticeable throb between your legs that William’s mere touch seemed to incite. "Keep it together Y/N, for fuck sakes" you joked to yourself.

"It was so great to meet you William - it was a ton of fun" you laughed, taking your hand out of the hockey glove and extending it to William.

“Trivia isn’t really my thing but you definitely made it more interesting” William said as he extended his arms out for an embrace.

You managed to pull the plug on the wild smut show that had already started in your brain, kept it light, and while hugging him, you patted his back gently and pulled away.

“See you, William,” you said grinning.

William wanted to come up with something clever, something extra but his brain just wasn’t engaging. Instead, he smiled bashfully and simply said “See you…I hope”.

Later on, in the parking lot, William sat in his car looking through his contacts, searching for your name. His heart sank when he went to the first letter of your name and found nothing.

He scrolled back to the top of his contacts, his thumb slowly grazing the glass to look at every single contact name he had. “Shit - I need to get rid of some of these” he thought as he bypassed a myriad of girls' names from previous encounters.

William laughs when he finally discovers the pseudonym you gave yourself and sits there for a moment, grinning like the Cheshire Cat; his chest fills up with a warm sensation unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

He arrived home to his downtown condo that he shared with his teammate, Kasperi.

“Hey - how’d it go? How was she?” Kappy asked, not looking up from the TV screen.

William grabbed water from the fridge and walked to the living room where Kasperi lounged on the couch, almost enveloped by the overstuffed cushions that were strewn about. Immersed in Call of Duty, Kasperi only could mutter “Fuck” multiple times in a row.

“Good. She’s really nice actually” William said, not wanting to elaborate on his newly developed interest.

“Is she as hot up close as she looks on screen? That video she was in - you know….that song” Kasperi hums the tune of one of your more popular solo hits “she’s hardly wearing anything under a buttoned-down dress shirt and mmmm…she’s in stilettos” Kappy mused, eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Jesus, Kap - get a grip” William forced a chuckle, trying not to let his annoyance show.

“You wanna play for a bit?” Kasperi asked, mumbling expletives as William declined.

“Gonna go for a nap - see you in a few”. William disappears into his bedroom. He flops onto the bed and rolls over, grabbing the pillow on the right side. He lay there thinking of you; he can hardly believe it but he’s already dying to see you again. He grabs his phone and Googles your name. First, he pulls up images of you - everything from award ceremonies and galas to magazine covers.

William continues to scroll through the search results, pulling up a video that a fan made on YouTube. It’s a video montage of you, at various events over the years. The song “More than a Woman” by the BeeGees plays in the background; the music somehow further enhances every movement of your elegant figure and every detail of your radiant face.

As you smile for the cameras.

As you laugh with your bandmates.

As you take the stage in front of thousands of fans.

Ugh. As you looked at your (now ex-) boyfriend in the eyes while walking the red carpet, your arm looped through his.

That last one hurt.

William flipped his phone over and grabbed the pillow once again. He closed his eyes, imagining the pillow was your body lying next to him, the first few moments of meeting you were on a continuous loop in his mind, until sleep finally found him.

****************************************************************

After the segment with William had wrapped, you headed to the dressing room to change out of your skates.

Evelyn breezes through the door after waving good-bye and saying thanks to the small entourage that escorted her to the dressing room.

“That went well…”

Evelyn’s British accent, and the way she enunciated her words, seemed to always sound sardonic, whether it was intentional or not. You had learned that it was just best to stick with the facts throughout conversations with Evelyn; as your manager, you learned fast that she often wasn’t in the mood to hear about frilly musings other than in your songs.

“Poor soul looked completely lost after he rhymed off every fucking Canadian singer, except you” she smirked.

“Jesus. he picked three of his favourite performers that he listens to, and they are all amazing,” you laughed. “He’s not required to be a fan of mine,” you said as you nudged Evelyn’s arm. “He felt bad though - he asked me out to make up for it, so that was nice” you trailed off, your cheeks inadvertently blushing at the thought.

“So that’s why you gave him your number” Evelyn smiled. “It’s nice to see you finally getting back on the horse”. Evelyn reaches into her long Burberry coat, pulling out her phone to open a newly delivered text message. “Play your cards right, you may get to ride him too. You could use a good…” she said in a low tone, neither taking her eyes off the screen or bothering to finish her sentence.

You scoffed, but it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t already entered your mind.

Amanda appeared at the door and invited you and Evelyn to head to the players lounge for a quick bite.

On the way, Amanda listed off which of the Maple Leafs would be taking part in the next segment. All very familiar names to you and much to your delight, the players in question were waiting for you in the lounge.

Tyler Bozak, Nazem Kadri, Morgan Rielly and Jake Gardiner stood gathered around the kitchen counter, deep in a spirited debate about popular wrestlers from the eighties.

Morgan appeared to be the bonafide WWE expert and was busy putting the rest to shame as he rhymed off some of the greats.

“Wasn’t there a female manager for….shit, who was it?” Kadri asked, snapping his fingers as he wracked his brain for the answer.

“Fuck….what was her name….ah shit - I’m drawing a blank….” Morgan said, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead. “Fuck me, this is gonna drive me nuts now”.

The group snickered at him.

“Some expert you are” Jake said, poking Morgan repeatedly in the ribs.

“Miss Elizabeth” you said with a smile as you approached the group. “She was Macho Man Randy Savage’s manager”.

Morgan’s head swivelled around as he said “Awh - yeah! Thank God….fuck - I just drew a total blank” Morgan said, apparent relief washing over him.

Introductions weren’t needed with the 4 players as you had briefly met each of the men at a charity function the year before. Each gave you a friendly hug as you all continued on with the lively conversation.

“We had about 5 TV channels growing up, there wasn’t cable out in the country - we just had a TV antenna and a router” you laughed. “I think it was the Hamilton channel that showed WWE reruns Saturdays at noon. Sort of became a fan of the 80’s wrestlers, whether I wanted to be or not '' you joked. “I always thought Miss Elizabeth was so beautiful…” you mused.

The men all made their own noises, nodding and affirming that Miss Elizabeth was indeed, well…hot.

Not long after, Amanda summoned you all to a common area of the lounge, where the next video segment was to take place. You glanced over and could see Evelyn and Amanda, deep in conversation. You usually wouldn’t notice or care what Evelyn was doing; you and your Manager had an incredible working relationship and you trusted her implicitly. That was, until you had a sneaking suspicion that she, the host and Amanda were hatching some plan involving you for the next video.

Before you could worry about it for too long, you and the 4 players were instructed to sit in the director-style chairs that had been lined up for you.

The host gives the directives of a game that is something between Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever. The questions that were directed at the players weren’t anything risqué, but were enough to cause a rumpus between the men, resulting in some hearty banter.

Once the verbal melee ceased and everyone starts to settle again, the host turns toward you with a knowing smile.

“We’ve left Y/N to last. You may not know this but Y/N’s Maple Leaf fandom spans back to when she was just a small girl. We’ve designed a very special Who’d You Rather between the Leafs past…. and present….players” she says drawing out each of the last few words emphatically. “With Y/N being unattached currently, we decided this might be fun…” the host says teasingly.

You shot a look at Evelyn, vowing to murder her later for this.

Evelyn smiles back at you, gesturing for you to hurry up and get this thing going.

On the monitor in front of you, a picture of Dion Phaneuf, the current Captain of the Leafs, appears next to a picture of former Captain Wendel Clark. The players whooped and hollered at your choices and you audibly groaned, not knowing exactly how to navigate the choices.

“Oh my God - how am I supposed to choose? So what, this is who I’d like to date? I actually know Dion - I’m friends with his wife too….” you trail off. “Oh - but I love Wendel too” you giggle.

“Just so you all know” you say to the crowd, motioning towards your surroundings, “this…this whole situation has to be among my worst nightmares…”

As the host cycles through a few more pictures, each of the 4 players giving their (unsolicited) input, albeit mockingly, as though they themselves were on a dating show.

Your adoration for Felix Potvin was known to the crew, thanks to Evelyn, so naturally, Felix’s picture appears next to Morgan’s. “Ooof, sorry Morgan…I have to go with my man, my precious Felix” you said, reaching over to tap Morgan’s knee.

“Fine then…” Morgan deadpanned, with the slightest smirk.

One after the other, you choose Felix over the image that appears on the opposite slide.

The host smiles and says “Devoted Potvin admirer, you have to love that! If you had the chance to meet him, what would you say?”

You were suddenly worried Felix would pop out of the woodwork, the look of excited anticipation mixed with worry crosses your face. You jokingly peer over both of your shoulders and respond “Je veux dire ‘C'est un plaisir de vous rencontre. Je suis tellement un grand fan de toi. I don’t think I would be able to get out much more than that”, you laugh.

“Ok, this is the last image. You just met this player this morning and managed to squeak past him to win in the trivia challenge” the host says, eyes fixed on your face.

William’s headshot from the Marlies appears on the screen, next to your first hockey love. The 4 men sat next to you chime in playfully with a series of “ooooh….Willy Nylander…”

You stay composed looking at the picture, trying not to appear as flustered as you felt. In one short meeting, William had actually made an impact on you. Yes, you found him breathtakingly gorgeous, but it was far more than that. There was a kindness about him; something about him seemed so refreshing and you found yourself really wanting a chance to talk with him more.

You try to suppress a smile but you end up with a wide grin and cheeks flushed. This shouldn’t be a big deal - but admitting that you might like a boy sent your mind hurtling back to 9th grade, when you were meek and awkward and would sooner die than allow a boy to see that you might think he’s cute.

But, you decide to play it safe and bypass William’s picture, just willing for this segment to be over. “I’m sticking with Felix,” you laugh.

“Felix it is!” the host says as she gives the appearance of cheering your choice.

Once the production crew deems they can wrap the segment, you slide off your chair and mingle with the 4 players and others that had gathered around for a quick snack before packing up.

Evelyn saunters up to you and whispers “You beautiful, chinless wonder* - you should have picked the boy…”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. Secretly, you had chosen him in your mind; you couldn’t stop thinking about him. ‘Fuck Y/N…you’re sunk’ is the only thought you had toying in your head.

“You can just keep your opinions to yourself,” you laughed toward Evelyn. “Let’s just go, I gotta get ready for dinner soon”.

(*chinless wonder is apparently British slang for a coward)

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey romance

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deceptive-daydreams · 1 year

Text

California Dreamin’

Chapter Two - Milkshakes & Sunburns (18+ ONLY)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Modern!Eddie AU - In which Eddie travels to California searching for something more out of life. And then he meets you.

Warnings: mentions of drug use and alcohol, reader being insecure, mentions of a deceased parent, eventual smut in future chapters, let me know if I missed any :)

8.8K words

Eddie x Reader, Friends to lovers, Slow burn

<;- Prev | Next ->

Note: So I got carried away and just kept writing. Also got a bit discouraged but that’s ok cause I kept writing anyway 😅 I’d love to know what you guys think about it. I’m trying to better myself as a writer and I figure the only way to do it is to write what I want and post it even if I’m scared. Also it’s like a fanfic so who tf cares it’s just fun.

Masterlist

The mornings in summer were cool and a blessing before the hot California sun seized the rest of the day. Birds chattered in the distance and lawn mowers hummed, giving off the scent of fresh cut grass. The smell of bacon and the clatter of pots and pans snaps Eddie out of his slumber.

Wiping drool from his mouth, he sits up throwing the sheets off of himself, his unruly curls sticking up in every direction, bangs smashed to each side of his temples.

Stretching with a deep groan, he swipes up his shirt off the floor and tosses it on. In the last few days he fell into routine with the household. Breakfasts at the table rather than in a rush on his way out the door, assigned chores, and of course a phone call to Wayne every other day, providing him updates on how he’s been doing so far.

—

Wayne had been worried about Eddie prior to him leaving Hawkins. His nephew wasn’t doing so well or at least that’s what it looked like in between all the drinking, smoking, and restless nights, hearing Eddie in his room every evening, doing anything but sleeping only for him to emerge in the morning with purple eye bags and bloodshot eyes.

It got to a point that Wayne didn’t know what to do anymore and god forbid, he wasn’t going to let his nephew, practically his son, drink himself to death. Smoke himself out of reality. Disappear right before him.

Wayne was never one to bring up emotions or ask for help but he sure as hell wasn’t going let this continue. Cringing at the thought of asking for any type of help or advice, he forced himself to call up the one person who might understand and be able to offer a smidge of hope to him. Maybe tell him that his nephew isn’t too far gone and that he can get out of this rut. Anything.

That’s when he called up Marlene, one of his oldest friends. “Mar, I just don’t know what I’m sposed’ to do. He’s walkin’ around damn near lookin’ like a corpse.” He explains through his flip phone. She suggests getting him professional help, therapy, something. Wayne sighs, shaking his head. “Y’know we don’t got the money for that.” She then offers something that Wayne sees a glimmer of optimism in.

She brings up an idea to have Eddie come stay with her, as long as he needs. “He should get out of there, it won’t help if he has to be faced with harassment every day. I think all the drinking and drugs provide him an escape. If we get him out of there it could help. He could find something out here, figure himself out.” She says. Wayne is hesitant not because he doesn’t trust Marlene but he doesn’t trust people.

People have always made Eddie feel like the freak, the outcast, the murderer’s son. Everywhere he went he was met with unforgiving stares, individuals whispering about him as he walked by, men of the town would even start fights with him. Just to assert their dominance over him as if to say “know your place”. Although they wouldn’t always win, Eddie was lean but he was strong. Growing up in the trailer park had its perks and being able to pummel someone to the ground when he needed to was one of them.

Wayne knew Eddie could hold his own physically but mentally he knew it destroyed him. Being held to a standard that his father set when he was only seven stuck with him, Wayne knew even if Eddie never talked about it. Refused to talk about it.

So when Marlene awaits an answer on the other end of the phone, all Wayne can think about is how wrong it could go should someone out in California figure out Eddie’s past and treat him how he’s always been treated. But then he envisions how right it could go too. Eddie could start fresh, he’d have Marlene and Jocelyn and wouldn’t be completely alone, experiencing something other than Hawkins all by himself. All he knew his whole life was Hawkins AKA Bigot Central.

He agrees and from there, he has to prepare to bring up the concept to Eddie. It would only work if he was on board. The idea of conveying his worry to Eddie in words was terrifying. Munson men didn’t talk about feelings.

That evening when Eddie stepped into the trailer after work, kicking his heavy oil covered boots off, Wayne sat up from the couch. “Ed, I need to talk to you.” He demands, gesturing to the spot next to him. Eddie gives him a suspicious stare, pulling his hair out of the low bun he sported. He slowly makes his way next to Wayne, plopping on the couch, the springs squeaking in protest.

“Now, m’ not gonna get mushy with you but here’s what I will say.” Wayne starts. “What you been doin’ lately ain’t good for you. Drugs, drinkin’, work, repeat. Comin’ home all banged up and bleedin’.” He explains, blue eyes staring straight into Eddie’s. “Wayne we don’t need t—“ “I’m talkin’, son. And you’re gonna sure as shit listen cause it’s what’s good for you.” Wayne is firm with his words. Eddie’s lips press into a tight line as he waits for Wayne to continue.

“I get it, this town hasn’t been good to ya. But that don’t mean you get to act like a goddamn college kid every night. I figure there ain’t really any way to stop you but I talked to Marlene—“ “You called Marlene! Why the fuck—“ Eddie is cut off again. “She thinks it’d be good for you to stay with her for some time, however long you want. Get away from these people, figure yourself out without havin’ to confront a mob everywhere ya go.”

“Wayne I can’t even afford to live in this shit hole of a town, how am I gonna pay rent out on the west coast! Are you trying to set me up for failure!?” Eddie seethes, hands grabbing at his curls in distress. Wayne feels hurt by his insinuation at first but comes to the conclusion that Eddie is scared, having known nothing but this small town his entire life.

Wayne closes his eyes and exhales. “Ed, we’re tryin’ to help. Marlene isn’t chargin’ rent, you just gotta help out. Y’know chores. Earn your keep. She wants to help. She knows how these people can be, she experienced it firsthand too.” He says. “I’m not charity—I-I’m not—“ Eddie struggles to find words. “You’re family to her, Ed! Remember! Her and your mom, they were there for each other and that also means she’s there for you too.” Wayne voices, attempting to keep the emotion to a minimum. Eddie’s big brown eyes soften and he slumps back against the couch.

He has no words and he refuses to go into this territory. He can’t. Without another sound, he stands up and heads to the bathroom, slamming the door to signify that this conversation is over.

Wayne feels defeated and hopeless. The rest of the night carries on, he eats one of his TV dinners on the couch watching Jeopardy like every other night. Eddie is still in the bathroom, the sound of the shower is heard from where Wayne sits, the pipes singing through the walls. Eventually the water turns off and minutes go by. Eddie emerges from the bathroom, curls dripping and a towel around his waist. He focuses on Wayne with intensity before softening his features ever so slightly. “I’ll go.” He states before padding off to his room.

He’ll never admit it but the smallest smile graces Wayne’s face.

—

Downtown is much busier than back home. Cars are constantly speeding past, traffic builds up at the lights, and there’s a man selling fruit on the corner. Eddie has witnessed so much in so little time as he walks along the damaged sidewalk. So far he’s handed his resume to four auto shops. Jocelyn assisted him in creating one that would stand out and highlight his skills.

He finishes handing in the last copy to one more shop before they hire him on the spot, letting him know he starts on Monday. Things are okay, things are going to be okay, he reminds himself through his doubt.

On his way out he bumps into something, another body, shorter than him. You let out a small chirp as you attempt to enter the shop but instead collide with something firm.

“Sorry-“ you both say simultaneously. You look up to find none other than Eddie Munson, now grinning down at you. He smells like tobacco and something wood-like you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s nice. His curls are as wild as when you met him a few days ago. “Hey.” He greets you, his eyes have a twinkle in them and you’re in a trance. “I was just—“ you begin to stumble over your words. “Something wrong with your car?” He asks. “Y-yeah it’s making all this noise and I put off taking it in so… that’s what I’m doing…now.” You awkwardly answer.

He leans in toward you before quietly saying “I could take a look at it. If you want. I won’t overcharge you unlike some—you know maybe we should talk outside. I don’t wanna get fired when I haven’t even worked a shift yet.” He ushers you back out the front door of the shop, the air conditioning vanishing as the heat takes back over. “You sure? You don’t have to.” You fiddle with the car keys in your hand.

“Yeah it’s no problem. You can drop it off at Mar’s and I’ll take a look at it when I get back.” He assures you. “Wait, did you say you work here?” You backtrack. He’s squinting at the sunlight as he answers. “Yeah, just got hired actually. Just don’t tell em’ I stole one of their customers.” He raises his brows and gives you a stern look although you can tell he’s playing around. “Noted.” You agree, your face feeling hot and it’s not just from the sun.

There’s a silence among the two of you, you awkwardly shuffling your feet on the concrete. “Not gonna lie, I don’t have shit left to do til’ Monday.” Eddie breaks the silence. “So I could just take a look at your car now.” He admits. With that, he follows you in his van back to Jocelyn’s house. Meanwhile, you’re giving yourself a mental pep talk the whole way back, simultaneously scolding yourself for being so uncool.

—

Condensation drips down the tall glasses of lemonade as you carry them out from the house to the front yard where Eddie’s head is tucked beneath the hood of your car, the mid-afternoon sun blazing.

Except when you left a few minutes ago to get him and yourself something to drink he was wearing a shirt. Now he’s all sweaty, tattoos littered along his torso and chest, his hair in a low bun with some strands escaping to frame his angelic face, and his happy trail on display. His rings are discarded on a small workbench he found next to the house that he had dragged over.

He’s gorgeous, lean but not pumped with muscle. His arms aren’t bulging but the flex in his bicep when he moves his arm a certain way does things to you. He has a rag hanging out of his back pocket, covered in grease. The image before you is nothing like you’d ever seen before.

You try and shake the thoughts forming about him in your head, setting the glasses down on the workbench. “Mar made some fresh lemonade with the lemons out back, so I brought you some. Hope that’s okay. Or I could get you water instead.” You watch as he tinkers with something in the engine, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration.

“No, no, that’s perfect. Thanks—fuck.” He grunts out of frustration. “I’m gonna need to get a new part for your car. Sorry about that, Peach.” Peach? “Probably not gonna be able to use it for a couple days til’ I find what I need.” He finishes. You nod in understanding. “Why—why Peach?” You ask timidly. He shrugs. “Just seem sweet is all.” He smiles and glances at you for a brief moment as he messes with something else in the engine. “Like a peach.”

“Jocelyn’s got a nickname too.” He continues, voice somewhat muffled since he’s hovering over the engine again. “Oh?” You urge him to complete his thought. “Yeah, fuckin’ grumpy ass.” He turns to you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. At this you laugh. “Do you know the shit she’s given me in the short time I’ve been here? Almost beat me to a pulp for taking too long in the bathroom. I mean Jesus Christ.” Eddie’s rolling his eyes dramatically. “She has a way with words.” You state, watching as he finishes up and closes the hood.

His hands are covered in black streaks, some sneaking their way up his forearms as well. “Well, so do I.” He says, taking the rag out of his back pocket and wiping his hands off. As he turns his face to the side you can’t help but notice a little silver hoop earring dangling from his ear.

There it is again, that hot and heavy feeling. You feel your cheeks starting to tint pink and you can only hope that he doesn’t notice. “But I’ll—uh let you know when she’s done.” He taps the hood of your car twice with his hand. “If you’re okay to leave it here. Really wouldn’t recommend driving it home at this point. Could’ve fallen apart on you at any moment, Peach.” He enunciates the nickname with a grin. This is so embarrassing, you can’t stop the color from taking over your cheeks, can’t even look him in the eye with how charming he is.

“Yeah, no for sure. It’s not like I drive to work anyway.” You say crossing your arms nervously. He grabs his shirt from the workbench, draping it over his shoulder before grabbing the glass of lemonade, taking a long gulp. And god, how could he look so good doing the most mundane things?

“Well I’m gonna go get cleaned up. You need me to drive you home or are you gonna hang here?” He asks. “I uh, think I’ll just hang out til Jos gets home. She should be here soon.” You take a sip from your glass. Eddie gulps down the rest of his lemonade, some of it escaping the glass and trickling down his chin and to his chest. Why was everything he did so erotic to you?

“Thanks for the lemonade.” He says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a small smile appearing. His face is flushed from the heat, lips a pretty shade of pink. You can’t seem to respond before he’s sauntering back into the house, leaving you a flustered mess in the yard.

—

You’d been waiting around for Jocelyn in the garage for around an hour before texting her, asking her where she was. Her college classes should have ended already. She responds letting you know that she was at the library with a study group, not sure how long she’d be.

Sighing, you kick your feet up on the coffee table. Guess you were going to have to find something to do with your evening which wasn’t uncommon. You always hung out at Jocelyn’s even if she wasn’t there, busying yourself with playing with the dogs or helping out Marlene, even working from your laptop.

Jonathan would probably also be at the study group which meant Argyle would follow him and Will and El wouldn’t be coming around tonight since he was their ride. In a way, you felt like everyone had a pairing or a group. Jonathan, Argyle, and Jocelyn were always on campus together, always exchanging inside jokes from classes or something that happened that day. Will and El, while they were a little bit younger, both being 19, they were also taking courses at another campus a few cities over. And then you just had work.

Sometimes you couldn’t help but feel that your decision not to go to college hindered your social life but it wasn’t even that. Everyone was around all the time regardless of their class schedules. If they weren’t at their classes they were almost always in the garage. It had to be the dynamic set out from the very beginning.

You were the quieter one, the more soft spoken one, the tie breaker if Jonathan, Argyle, and Jos got in an argument over something and couldn’t make a decision or if Will and El were bickering about where to eat. Your role was essential when Jonathan and Will got into disagreements however those never seem to end seeing as they’re brothers. Something in you just felt that while Jos was considered your best friend, you just weren’t bonded to everyone in the way that they were bonded to each other. Will and El were inseparable but it didn’t feel that way with yourself or anyone in the group.

It wasn’t to say you didn’t feel loved by your friends because you did. There was just something missing, a void that wasn’t being filled no matter how hard you tried. No one would ever notice but you were drowning in self doubt and lacked the confidence to swim back to the surface and ask for help.

In the distance, the sky is fading into hues of purples and pinks, a cotton candy mess of clouds consuming the skyline. The day is coming to a finish as the city just beyond the view of the reservoir glimmers like a jewelry box. You can just barely see it from where you’re sitting but it's still hypnotizing. Life still continues even into the dark of the night, the hustle of people working their night shifts prominent among the millions of lights in the distance.

“Hey, where is everyone?” Eddie strolls into the room, breaking you from your provoking thoughts. His hair is damp and he’s wearing a black muscle tee and some black basketball shorts. Some small tattoos are scattered throughout his legs. His curls look fresh and not as frizzy as before and he smells faintly of aftershave. Not the gross kind that’s too strong but just a subtle scent.

“Class, I guess.” you mutter, taking your legs off the coffee table and sitting up straighter. “I was just gonna get going.” Before you can stand up Eddie is slumping onto the couch next to you, a beer in his hand that he had just grabbed from the fridge in the kitchen. “I don’t bite y’know, Peach.” he pops the cap to the beer off and tosses it onto the coffee table as he takes a sip. You shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer. “You’re just gonna leave the second I sit down?” he continues, brow raised, offense in his voice. “Well I uh–no–” his eyes narrow and then travel across your face as you stutter before he displays a huge grin. “I’m just fucking around, don’t let me tell you what to do. I was just gonna chill out here for a little bit. If that’s cool with you.” he settles back into the couch, resting his head against the back of it.

“Yeah, it’s basically your house isn’t it? At least while you’re here, like you live here.” you manage to say. “I mean, it seems like you basically live here too and you’ve been here longer so you have the authority to kick me out if anything.” he mentions. You just nod in response, focusing your sight on a rip in your denim shorts rather than his face.

You don’t know where it comes from but before you can even think your mouth is already running. “Have they shown you around yet? We could like–take a walk and I could show you around the area…I don’t know.” you offer. Mentally, you’re now kicking yourself because why would he be interested in hanging out with you for the night? Why would he entertain the idea when he was probably waiting for everyone else?

“Let’s go.” he smiles, finishing off his beer and throwing his shoes on. You’re surprised by his answer, not because you think he would just simply tell you no but because you’re you and he seems enthusiastic if anything. But you’re boring and that enthusiasm won’t last long, you know it. That’s how it usually goes, right?

Eventually the gravel is crunching below your heels as you walk alongside Eddie down the driveway. The air is dry and it's still warm despite the sun no longer hanging in the sky. Eddie’s hands are shoved in his pockets and as you sneak a quick glance at him from the corner of your eye, you notice a chain with a guitar pick dangling from his neck, the jewelry reflecting off one of the street lights as you approach the road.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asks, pulling out a carton of cigarettes from his pocket. You shake your head in response as you decide to veer off to the right, the street crumbly from not being maintained for a while. Eddie follows your lead. “Been trying to quit so I only let myself have one a day. You smoke?” he questions, you hear the lighter flickering before he inhales as you keep your gaze on the broken asphalt beneath you. The scent of tobacco soon fills your nose. You take slow steps in rhythm with him, lazily shifting from one foot to the other. “No, I don’t. Never tried before. Cigarettes, at least.” you say.

He just nods in understanding. “I used to smoke so much, we’re talkin’ like chain smoker. Shit was nasty. But I’ve been trying to cut back and quit. Mostly been smokin’ weed.” he explains. “Well you’re gonna love what Jonathan and Argyle smoke. The stuff you find out here is unreal.” you tell him. You almost frown at the thought. It seems like so far you have had the opportunity to hang out with Eddie one on one more than anyone else but you’re certain that will change and once again you will be on the backburner.

“Good cause I’m gonna need it.” he laughs. You haven’t gotten very far, the house still a couple yards away behind you as you both had been leisurely making your way along the street. He clears his throat, cigarette hanging in between his fingers, there’s a look in his eye. You can’t quite pinpoint what it is, maybe a bit mischievous? “I don’t mean to hijack your tour or anything but let's go over there.” he chimes in, pointing to the reservoir, the concrete part at the opposite end of the field. There is a ‘no trespassing’ sign displayed a few feet away and a sparkle in his eyes as he looks from you to the sign and back.

You’d crossed the field a few times in the past to sit on the part that appears to be like a dam with no water to block. No one’s ever said anything but you feed into Eddie’s antics. “If we get caught–” “I’ll go down for the crime, don’t you worry.” he smirks, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground before stomping it out and then picking it back up, putting it back in his pocket. You give him a questionable look before he elaborates. “Bad for the environment…” You can only laugh in response.

—

The city stares back at the two of you, lights sparkling as a treasure chest filled with gold and jewels would. You stand on the concrete dam overlooking the sight before you. Eddie’s eyes are filled with wonder, huge pools of honey taking it all in. “Can I be honest?” he says next to you. “Sure.” you respond. “I’ve never seen something like this before. I mean I’ve seen a city before but it didn’t look anything like this.” he says, his stare remaining in front of him.

“That’s fair, Indiana’s a lot different than here.” you say. “A lot different.” he emphasizes. He sits himself down on the ground, bringing his knees to his chest. You join him, sitting criss-crossed. Eddie finally tears his gaze from the city, shifting it to you. “So tell me about everyone.” he says. “What do you mean? You’ve met them.” you respond. “Yeah but what’s everyone like? I’ve only known them for like less than a week.” he elaborates. “Well, you know Jos. She’s my closest friend. And then Will and El are like the twins around here. They’re always together. El acts like Jos’s little sister and she’s a party animal once you get her started. Will’s shy around new people but he’s super funny.” you explain with a small smile. Eddie’s full attention is on you, listening intently. “And then there’s Jonathan and Argyle, they’re complete stoners. Will is Jonathan’s brother if they didn’t tell you yet. Sometimes they don’t tell new people they’re brothers and wait to see how long they can go without telling them, it’s super weird. Argyle is super chill, he’s usually up for anything.” you finish.

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “What about you?” he asks. His voice is quiet, almost as if he could disrupt the calm atmosphere you two created. You stare down at the ground, fidgeting with a pebble. What about you? What was there to tell about you? Not much, you decide. But he wasn’t going to make this easy and you knew that.

“I’m just me.” you sigh, giving him a sad smile. His face falters at this. “Yeah, you’re you.” he says intrigued. “Tell me about you.” he pushes. What were you supposed to tell him? I have deeply rooted emotional trauma which makes it hard for me to get close with others? No, he would run for the hills. “I’m–” you try again, unable to find the words. “I have to get home.” you could punch yourself for the words that involuntarily left your lips. You panicked and now you’re going to regret ending the night early.

“Do you really?” Eddie challenges you, almost as if he can read you like a book. His eyes are burning a hole in you. It’s hard to look at him because you know you’re lying and he knows it too. “Yes.” you lie again. He looks at you in speculation and sighs, giving in as he stands up. You follow, dusting your legs off. “I can drive you then.” is all he says.

Now you worry that you’ve angered him, that you pissed him off and now he’s never gonna interact with you again other than when he’s forced to when everyone else is around. The fear that you’ve ruined another good thing because you couldn’t get over yourself bubbles within you.

Eddie walks in front of you, making his way down from the dam along the slope of concrete and onto the field, you’re not far behind. He’s giving you the silent treatment, you think to yourself. You barely even know him and he’s already done with you. That is until you hear his voice speak up as he glances behind at you, a smile on his face. “Thanks for trespassing with me.” He’s not mad? “No problem.” You respond confused.

The two of you make your way back to Jocelyn’s in a quiet but comfortable silence, now that you know he’s not mad, or at least not showing it. Approaching the open garage, you hear voices laughing and bantering. Everyone must be home. Sure enough, you and Eddie walk into a room full of your friends. “Heyyyy!” Jonathan greets from the couch he’s melted into. His eyes are bloodshot and a grin seems permanently etched into his face. Looking at Jocelyn and Argyle also attached to the couch, Jocelyn cuddling a pillow to her chest, you realize you just missed their post class smoke sesh. You’d usually be a participant had you been around but you don’t mind.

Will and El are seated on the cushioned bench on the other side of the garage doing homework. Will seems reluctant to participate but does so anyway as he shuffles through the flashcards he’s holding. Highlighters are scattered among the binders littered on the floor next to them. Will offers a “hey” while El greets you with a “hi” and a wave.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks as he plops himself next to Jonathan. “Where have you brochachos been?” Argyle questions looking between you and Eddie. Jos gives you a quick look as if something’s up but you return a stern one back to her so she drops it.

“I was showing him around and he wanted to see the reservoir.” You explain. “Why the hell did you wanna see that out of all things?” Jos just about yells at Eddie with a puzzled look. “It said no trespassing so you know I had to.” He smirks. “Fight the man, dude.” Jonathan fist bumps Eddie. “Thanks?” he responds.

“So, Eddie The Wise…” Argyle begins before Will chimes in. “Hey! It’s Will The Wise!” Argyle chuckles mischievously. “I love riling that little dude up. His eyes get all big and he starts freakin’ out, it’s classic man.” He laughs a little harder than necessary. “Whew!” He wipes the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes while Jos and Jonathan laugh along with him. “Anyway, how are you liking Californ-i-ay?” he asks.

“Can’t complain so far.” Eddie replies, and you swear he shoots a glance at you for a brief second. “Peach has been showin’ me the ropes.” he jokes. So he definitely glanced at you. “Who’s Peach?” Jonathan questions, confusion evident in his features. Eddie gestures to you with a tip of his chin, his lashes are casting shadows over his rosy cheeks, no doubt sunburned from being outside more than he’s used to this past week. “She’s too nice to everyone!” Eddie explains. Jos, Argyle, and Jonathan all share a look, Jonathan wiggling his eyebrows before shrugging it off. You shoot each of them a glare as you speak up. “I’m gonna head home now, it’s starting to get late and we have a long day tomorrow.” you remind them of the trip to the beach that was planned.

Eddie drove you home that night just like he did the first time just days ago. And hopefully there would be many more, you think to yourself. If you were lucky enough, if you were strong enough to let him in. If that was even his intention.

–

“Sunscreen, towels, sandwiches, drinks, and where is my…” El lists off the necessities until she’s looking around puzzled, lips in a pout and eyebrows scrunched. “My book!” she yells as Argyle mindlessly flips through the pages while he leans against Eddie’s van, back doors wide open as Jonathan is tossing in an umbrella. El snatches the book from Argyle’s grasp, tucking it into her canvas tote bag hanging off of her shoulder. “I wasn’t gonna hurt it!” Argyle defends, shoving his hands into the pockets of his bright teal swim trunks. Scoffing and rolling her eyes, El makes her way back to the house to gather anything else they may have forgotten.

Eddie passes her through the doorway carrying two beach chairs. “Good morning, Sunshine!” he just about shouts in her ear. She flinches, her bangs momentarily falling into her eyes. “Good morning?” she responds as he continues walking. “If I have to be up early and ‘get glad’ as Mar says, then so do you!” he sing songs from down the driveway. She waves him off before making her way into the kitchen where you and Will had been making the rest of the sandwiches for the day.

“You won’t catch me making a bologna sandwich, I’m not doing it.” Will cringes as you’re handing him the container of meat, all processed and packaged in perfect circles. “Well I’m working on the turkey ones.” you whine, dropping the container in front of him, returning to your task of smothering mayo along the white sandwich bread. “And I’m working on the peanut butter and jelly ones.” he puts on an exaggerated frown. “Will, you’re literally on your last one.” you argue. Will starts to mimic you in a high pitched voice. “Oh my god, I’ll do it!” El chimes in with annoyance, dropping her tote bag on one of the chairs near the table, making her way next to you at the kitchen island.

“Who even requested bologna anyway?” El questions as she steals the butter knife from you to slather some mayo on the bread. You give her a glare but she pays no mind so you drop it, grabbing another knife from the drawer. “Who do you think?” Will finishes off his last PB&J, pushing the pieces of bread together and packaging it in a sandwich bag and then into the small red cooler on the counter. “Argyle.” El seethes as she pulls a piece of the over processed meat out of the container, a disgusted look on her face. They didn’t hate each other by any means but he knew how to push El’s buttons and she did nothing to hide it.

You finish off the sandwiches just as Jocelyn stampedes down the stairs wearing her black denim shorts which used to be jeans but she cut them at the knee and a cropped white band shirt, showing off a hint of her torso. “Let’s go, losers!” She grabs her sunglasses from the counter and heads toward the door. “Be safe!” you hear Marlene yell from the top of the stairs.

Everyone meets up at the end of the driveway, piling into the van with the beach essentials. There are no seats in the back so you just grab a spot where space is available. Eddie drives and Jonathan calls shotgun. The engine is rumbling to life and before you know it you're on the road, only a 30 minute drive around the mountain and through the coastal cities.

–

The air is more crisp than inland and it's still overcast since it was still early. Families walk along the sidewalks, dads carrying foldable lawn chairs and pool toys, moms herding the kids while carrying diaper bags and other miscellaneous items. The chatter in the car was continuous throughout the whole drive, the seven of you leaving no room for silence. Except for of course when you all stopped for a mandatory gas station run, leaving everyone with their selected snack and drink before heading down to the beach. It was a ritual you all had.

The parking lot comes into view and so does the open ocean along with the sand you couldn’t wait to dig your toes into. The water is a deep blue compared to the lighter blue of the sky. You spot the pier and the little diner at the end, hoping you’d get to treat yourself to a milkshake later on. Eddie had to circle the parking lot a few times before actually finding a spot. “It’s baby’s first beach trip!” Jos yells as she crawls toward the front of the van, slapping her hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He rubs his shoulder, putting the van in park and not even a second later everyone is rushing out of the van.

You can hear the waves smacking the shore, smell the salt in the air, you can almost feel the cool water against you as you play in the waves and even taste the saltwater when you get hit in the face by one that was bigger than you estimated. But first you have to help with carrying everything from the van down to the sand which is the worst part. But not as bad as having to lug it all back at the end of the day. You opt to carry one of the smaller coolers and some towels, everyone else finding something to carry. It was nice having so many people though, you didn’t have to make multiple trips. Unlike the time you, Jocelyn, Jonathan, and Argyle went to the beach and overpacked, the four of you had to make two trips out of it between the beach toys, a tent Argyle insisted on bringing, chairs and food, among other things you can’t even remember.

The shore was populated with families and groups of people seeing as it was a Saturday in the beginning of Summer. The sand was warm, almost hot on your feet. Jonathan managed to point out a spot that would fit your group perfectly among the crowds. It was a little ways down from the pier but not too far, complaints were still heard from Jos and Argyle though, they just wanted to drop everything and run into the water. Towels were laid out, the coolers were set in the sand near the foldable chairs, and a colorful umbrella was propped up. Everyone claimed their respective spots to lay out for the day in between swimming and playing in the sand.

El situated herself on her towel underneath the umbrella, pulling out her book as she laid back. You decided on a faded Star Wars towel, setting your bag on the corner and pulling out some sunscreen to apply to your face and body. Will held his hand out for some as he claimed the towel right in between you and El. You obliged, squeezing the bottle of lotion onto his palm as you spread it along your cheeks and nose. Jonathan and Argyle were already throwing a frisbee back and forth, not even shedding their shirts yet. Jos sat in one of the beach chairs with her shirt discarded in her back pocket, now sporting a neon orange bikini top with her sunglasses sitting comfortably on her face while she basked in the sun.

With another glance around at your friends, you can’t help but notice one is missing. That is until you shift your gaze toward the water where Eddie is already standing just before the very shallow part where the tide rises up and down. The sun is starting to overtake the overcast morning, bringing with it a bright Summer day. There’s a slight breeze and with it, the occasional mist of sea water. His curls are dancing with the wind as he overlooks the water. He hasn’t even taken his black converse off yet, wearing a ripped up black muscle shirt with ‘Metallica' across the chest and black swim trunks.

You avert your gaze as he begins to turn back around toward the beach towels. You remember what Jos said in the car and gather that he’s probably never seen an ocean before. He kicks his shoes off and lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it at Jocelyn’s face and yelling “come on!” before running back down to the water, this time stopping until it's at his waist. Jos throws the shirt down on the chair next to her, tugging her shorts off and then running to the water as well. She reaches Eddie and without hesitation, pushes him forward, sending him face first into one of the waves. You laugh to yourself at the sight but when you don’t see Eddie resurface for a few seconds your heart drops.

Suddenly he pops up from beneath the water, shoving Jos into another oncoming wave which causes her to lose her balance and land ass first as the water rushes over her. Their shouts and giggles are muffled by the sound of the crashing waves as well as Will chattering next to you about some new movie he wants to see.

With courage, you decide to join them inviting Will and El as you stand up and discard your shirt and shorts. El declines, too engaged with her book but Will agrees and follows. The water is ice cold and shocks your body as you take your first steps along the wet sand into the water. But in contrast to the hot sun blazing from above, it also feels refreshing. As you approach Jos, a splash of water meets your face causing you to gasp. “Shit, sorry!” Eddie apologizes. “Yeah sorry, Peach!” Jos emphasizes the nickname, this brings a blush to Eddie’s face but he’s hoping the sun has already burned him enough to cover it.

Scooping up some water with your cupped hands, you toss it at Jos but it does little damage since she’s already been engulfed in the waves and you’re still halfway dry. She starts doing the same, cupping her hands and flinging the water at you, your skin slightly stinging at the cold shock. “Jos, it’s cold, it’s cold, okay—okay!!” You surrender, throwing your arms up in front of you to shield yourself. “Get in dummy!” She splashes once more.

Eddie is standing near you, pulling a piece of stray seaweed out of his curls, his face wrinkled in concentration while his torso is glistening with seawater, sparkling even as the sunlight beams off of him. His chest and arm tattoos are on full display and you subtly try and take them in, your attention drifting to the black widow just below his collarbone. As you scan over the artwork, Jocelyn is now peeking behind Eddie at you, gesturing that she was going to push him yet again. Except this time she pushes him straight into you.

The next thing you remember is slimy skin on skin, the sand scraping against you as your back crashes against it along with some making its way into your swimsuit bottoms, and the loss of breath from the impact of another body on top of you. Eyes scrunched shut and hands clenched, you realize just who is on top of you can you can’t seem to face reality. The tide continues rolling in, covering everything but your face, however you did manage to ingest a large mouthful of seawater on your tumble down, leaving you with a salty aftertaste and sand particles wedged in between your teeth that you might still feel in a few days.

Exhaling a deep breath, you convince your eyelids to flutter open and above you is none other than Eddie, arms on either side of your shoulders and stomach touching yours, a little too intimate for your comfort. His large deep brown doe eyes are looking directly at you with surprise in them, seaweed still hanging from one of his curls. You could swim in his eyes if the world around you paused and he allowed it.

“Um—“ you begin, slowly sitting up. He takes his weight off of you and starts to back up on his knees. “I’m—she pushed me—I’m so sorry.” He stumbles over his words while running a hand through his tangled hair, his fingers getting caught. “No it’s okay—“ “Here.” As he stands up he offers you his hand which you now notice is naked without his chunky rings. His grip is firm but somewhat gentle, you could feel that he was trying to be careful. As his fingertips graze your wrist while he pulls you up, you note that they are slightly rough, most likely calloused from playing guitar and his work as a mechanic.

“Thanks” you mutter almost under your breath, brushing some of the wet sand off of your legs. Eddie still appears to be flustered, his stare not once leaving the water in front of where he’s standing. Everyone else seems to have already moved on from Jocelyn’s stunt, continuing to play in the waves as you recover from the awkward interaction.

Jonathan sneaks behind Will, a beach pale in hand while he silently fills it with water and then dumps it over his head with a maniacal laugh. They’re now the center of attention as they wrestle in between the waves. You’re thankful since it seems no one is going to mention what just happened. What was an innocent joke to Jos and your friends was actually a huge embarrassment in your eyes and your heart was still racing at any attention it may have brought to you.

—

Everyone took a break from crashing into the waves and messing around in the sand to eat lunch when the sun reached its peak in the sky. El started passing around sandwiches, asking each person what kind they requested for the day before delicately handing it to them along with a bag of potato chips. Jonathan tossed beers to Eddie and Jos, offering one to yourself and Argyle but the two of you declining. Argyle opted for a more natural substance whereas being under the influence of anything in public made you anxious.

By this point, Eddie’s shoulders, face, and torso were as red as a lobster since he neglected putting on any sunscreen. Everyone else's faces were sun kissed and slightly pink but nowhere near as bad as Eddie’s wicked sunburn. Your skin felt warm even being sat in the shade of the umbrella, taking Will’s spot next to El. Tan lines began forming, your hair was filled with sea salt, and it officially felt like Summer with the smell of coconut suntan lotion and hotdogs on a grill nearby filling your nose.

Will and El finished off their sandwiches and raced towards the water and not long after everyone else was wrapping up and scarfing down the last bites of their lunch. “I’m gonna go grab a milkshake from the diner, anyone want me to bring anything back?!” You shout as you throw your clothes on, not even bothering to button the denim shorts since you’d be back in the water soon enough anyway. “We’re good!” Jonathan shouts back with a thumbs up just as Argyle dunks him underwater.

“I’ll tag along if that’s cool.” You hear from behind you, not even realizing Eddie had still been lounging in one of the beach chairs with a beer held between his fingers. “What, so you can get even more burned?” You joke as you fish some cash out of your bag. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” He deadpans. His hair is twice as big as it normally is, the seawater giving him some added volume and his curls are extra coiled. Freckles are starting to appear more prominent along his nose and dusting just under his eyes along the tops of his cheeks. He almost looks like a surfer, the ones who are out every morning waiting to catch the biggest wave and you wouldn’t guess that he was from a small town in Indiana just by looking at him. Except for the fact that he has a massive sunburn, that’s what gives it away.

“Let’s go.” You nod toward the pier, sliding your sandals on. He throws his muscle tee back on but leaves behind his shoes, opting to walk all the way to the pier barefoot. “The grounds gonna get really hot.” You warn him as you start making your way over. “Psshh I grew up barefoot, especially in the Summer, I’ll be fine.” He waves you off.

The walk to the pier took about five minutes and you smiled to yourself every time Eddie let out a “shit!” under his breath. He may have underestimated the power of the California sun on the sidewalk that runs alongside the beach. Reaching the pier, you step onto the dark wood and head for the diner at the very end. Men are fishing on either side as you pass by, their poles resting against the railing.

The diner is small and can only seat so many people on the inside. It appears to be older with the wallpaper peeling and the cushions of the stools coming apart, the foam peaking through. Despite this, it’s as popular as ever. Every table is filled and the counter is fully occupied as patrons sip on their milkshakes and stuff themselves with burgers and fries. You can smell the grease from the kitchen, your mouth watering even though you’d just eaten. But the idea of a cookies and cream milkshake is far more enticing at the moment, creamy and delicious, your go to treat.

“Hi, what can I get you?!” The cashier behind the counter greets you with a grin. She’s a small enthusiastic woman with her sandy blonde hair clipped up and wearing a t- shirt with the diner’s logo on the chest. Sandra, her name tag reads. “Just a cookies and cream shake please.” You request kindly. “Make that two.” Eddie slaps down a $20 on the counter. “Oh you don’t have to—I wasn’t expecting you—“ “Already done.” He smirks as the cashier counts out his change, handing it back to him. “I’ll have those out in a few.” Sandra says as she returns to the kitchen window, shouting out the order for two milkshakes.

“Why’d you do that? I have money—here.” You try to place the cash in his hand but he just crosses his arms, hiding them from view. “Consider it compensation for knockin’ you over earlier.” He chuckles. You huff out of frustration, returning to people watching throughout the diner as you wait.

—

Walking down the pier with your milkshake in hand, you and Eddie slowly make your way back. The afternoon is just now shifting into golden hour and with it, Eddie has never looked more gorgeous. At least in the little time you’ve known him. The sunlight brings out new hues of caramel from his irises, a swirl of golden honey and a hint of molasses evident in them and while his skin is bright red he still has a glow to him. Lips plump and pink, he wraps them around the red straw while he enjoys his shake.

“So I’ve never been to the beach before.” He pipes up while he stares at a fisherman reeling in a large catch. “And while it should suck cause this sunburn hurts like a bitch, it’s been fuckin’ cool. Your friends are cool, y’know that?” He asks, dipping his finger in some whip cream from the top of his shake and licking it off. You can’t help but feel insecurity bubbling to the surface within you. Your friends are cool. Which meant that he didn’t include you, right? “Yeah. Yeah they’re pretty great.” You agree with your best smile.

“Yeah it’s way different than back home. It’s kinda like no one really gives a shit what I look like or how ‘scary’ I am.” He uses finger quotes. “Scary?” You ask. He nods as he gulps down some more of his shake. “I won’t get into it but let’s just say Hawkins is probably the worst place to live if you’re me.” He explains simply. “Actually… It is the worst place to live.” He decides. “I’m glad you’re liking it here at least. Are you planning on staying then?” You question as you come to a stop at the pier railing, deciding to remain there until you finish your shake. The horizon is now transforming into a burnt orange as the sunset just barely starts, still enough daylight left but the sun is slowly making its way down, bringing with it hues of pinks, purples, and oranges.

Eddie gazes out into the ocean before him, his shake now finished as he tosses it in a nearby trash can and rests his forearms on the worn down wood of the railing. “Dunno yet.” He says honestly, his eyebrows raising slightly as if to question himself. “There’s no plan. Just trying to figure shit out.” He admits, a melancholy undertone to his words. You take in his body language, his shoulders sunken in some kind of defeat and a barely there pout to his lips. “I think we’re all in the same boat believe it or not.” You try to offer him some comforting words with a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t give up much more to you as he returns a small smile. “I think we should get back before they leave us here.” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

But you know. There’s something darker lurking below his surface. But who are you to want to uncover those parts of him if you can’t even offer those parts of yourself to anyone? Why should you be so curious as to what darkness clouds over him when you can’t even confront your own?

Eddie Munson was unknowingly making you question everything you knew. And whether that was a good thing or not was something you couldn’t determine right now.

~end~

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Masterlist

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie Munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson smut #Cal dreamin’

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anexperimentallife · 9 months

Text

Since the rights have reverted to me, this is the story I WAS getting paid to license as the basis of a video game until the deal got canceled unexpectedly after a year of development(for understandable reasons I won't go into here). There's a lot I'd change about it now (I'm a better writer now, for one thing, and my understanding of problematic tropes is better now--this was the first story I ever sold, and was originally published in the anthology The Crimson Pact, volume 2), and my Quiet World setting has morphed and expanded quite a bit since then, too. This will be getting a rewrite, with additional characters (some of whom you'll meet if you play the dialogue-only demo linked to below). But anyway...

HERE’S THE ORIGINAL STORY--ENJOY!

(also here's a link to a playable dialogue-only version of the first three chapters of the mobile game version--which is quite different)

Karma

by D. Robert Hamm (about 15,000 words)

We hit the interstate like an unguided missile. Needles of frozen rain and jagged blades of wind beat my face numb and turned what was left of my dress into a full-body ice-pack. Even with the heater on ‘incinerate,’ I couldn’t stop shivering, but the outside air was all that kept me from gagging on the smell of my own puke and the rusty stench of blood, so the window stayed down. Between the black pavement and blacker sky, the air was wet and gray. It sucked the vitality from my headlamp beams well before their natural time, but that was okay. I wasn’t paying much attention to the little they revealed anyway.

The man in the passenger’s seat either didn’t feel the cold or was too stoic to show discomfort. The dashboard glow turned his short white beard to green and deepened the age lines in his face. Gods, I’d loved that face growing up. It was my grandfather’s face. But right then, I could barely look at it, because this wasn’t my grandfather, just a sad, confused spirit wearing his body. And even though he was one of the good guys, that didn’t mean it was easy to take.

“You’re going to catch cold,” Not-Grandpa shouted over the storm.

“I’m… what?”

Since last night I’d been shot at, whipped, and electrocuted. I’d watched a good man beheaded and disemboweled before my eyes, and learned things about myself, my family, and especially my past, that had already driven other people into padded-room territory. I was marinated in a vile concoction of blood and various other body fluids, quite a bit of it my own, and had spent the last however-many hours fighting horrors that should never have existed. In the middle of all that—because I’m an overachiever—I took time out to kill a man I loved.

And this guy was worried that I’d catch a fucking cold?

Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. The kind of deep, full-body laughter that doubles you over and makes your stomach muscles ache for days afterward. The kind that shreds the lining of your throat and rises in pitch to rapid staccato squeaks, like sneakers on a hardwood floor. I held back the worst long enough to wrestle the car onto the shoulder, then let go. The laughter turned to howling, the howling into screams, the screams into sobs, and the sobs into a quiet whimper that finally, gods finally, tapered off, and I could breathe again, in great, ragged gulps. I wiped away a rope of snot hanging from my nose and sat hunched over with my eyes closed and my forehead against the steering wheel, shaking, while the rain pummeled my back with tiny, ice-cold fists.

In shock? Probably. Hysterical? Definitely. Look, I make sandwiches at my family’s restaurant for a living, okay? Sandwiches.

Not-Grandpa waited until I quieted down before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was the dozenth or so time he’d said it. The line of his mouth stayed hard, but his eyes and his voice were soft and broken. I believed him. Had to believe him.

“I know.” I didn’t mean for it to sound bitter. He’d saved my life after all, and he deserved better than that. I just didn’t know if I could forgive him for not being who I wanted him to be.

A little too “in media res” for you? Yeah, me too.

So here are the vitals: My name is Karma Miranda Rodriguez. I’m twenty-three years old, five foot six, with brown eyes, light brown skin, and dark brown hair that I keep boy-short. I claim to be a size five, and I dare you to say otherwise. I like strawberry daiquiris, support equal rights for supernaturals, am indifferent toward long walks on the beach, and . . .

And oh, yeah—apparently, I kill demons.

Eli’s Borderland Station, my family’s restaurant, has been the only twenty-four hour eatery on the Kansas City Plaza since back before the Jasonites outed the supernatural community (aka, “The Quiet World”) and we had to coin the term ‘daylighter’ to differentiate plain vanilla humans from those touched by the paranormal. During the riots that followed the Jasonites’ little party, and all through the Apocalypse Wars, my Grandpa Eli and Uncle Garston kept the restaurant open as a free kitchen-slash-aid-station for refugees and emergency workers, and turned the upstairs apartment—which is mine, now—into a de facto headquarters for various peacekeeping forces.

So alongside our Absolutely Killer Turkey Sandwich (made from, according to the menu, genuine killer turkeys), we serve up a mean side-order of history. Obviously, a lot of things have changed since the AWs; for instance, the Plaza, always an upscale shopping district, is now a level four Private Patrol Zone with the best law enforcement money can buy. As you’d expect, our main business is well-heeled shoppers whose sidearms are more fashion statement than personal defense, but we try to keep prices reasonable enough for the average college student, too.

No amount of money will buy you a table or a bar stool in our VIP lounge, though, even if every other seat in the house is taken. The lounge is permanently reserved for veterans, proxies, bounty hunters, elites, and so on. It’s where people with code names like Halloween Jack, Lucy D.T., HalluciNathan, and so on come to catch up with one another, trade information, or just relax. Grandpa and Uncle Garston are technically civilians now, but a lot of the VIPs still use their call signs from way back when, so if someone in armored leathers with notched weapons and a stare that looks like they’re counting the ways they could kill you with one finger says they’re going to see The General and Body Mass, they’re not talking about some secret mission, it just means they’re headed our way for the lunch special.

On Tuesday nights we lock up for a few hours of uninterrupted cleaning with my special patented Karma Rodriguez closing procedure. This involves, among other things, lots of dancing around with brooms and mops, and other Weapons of Mess-Destruction, and me in a casual dress singing along with loud music at the top of my lungs. It’s effective. The more I can make work feel like play, the faster and more efficiently I get things done, and as proof of that, what used to take three people on Tuesday nights now requires only two.

At thirty seconds to zero-dark-thirty on a drizzly February evening, when my grime-fighting partner Jayden and I were the only ones left in the restaurant, I locked the front door and hit the music. My mix for the night was weighted heavily in favor of pre-Apocalypse rock—music that was old before I was born. It was a minor tragedy when it cut off about ten minutes into the shift, right in the middle of David Bowie’s Rebel, Rebel. Jayden and I both trailed off a cappella.

“I didn’t hear you singing if you didn’t hear me,” Jayden said. “We stick together, and nobody can prove anything.” He fixed me with what would have been a deadpan stare if not for that quirk at one corner of his mouth that I thought of as his, ‘our little secret’ smile.

I put on my best film noir ‘tough dame’ voice. “It’s always secrets with you, isn’t it? Fine, I’ll play your game.” Staying in character, I headed upstairs with an over-the-top hip-swaying sashay, to reboot the router while Jayden kept cleaning.

I can’t be objective about Jayden, so I won’t try. He was one of a kind. Literally. Part Aosidhe, part Graealfinsidhe, and part daylighter, Jayden was a medical miracle, and he got the best from each branch of his ancestry. Six and a half feet of lean muscle, flawless skin, hair like pale gold silk, and . . . you get the idea. His ears were only slightly pointed, and with his hair down, he could pass for an exceptionally pretty daylighter, if not for his eyes. Whiteless, and bright turquoise in color. They suited him.

And yeah, I know. If only I wasn’t his boss. Jayden had something of a ‘mystery man’ air about him that only added to his status as local lust-object. Among other things, the way he dressed like a wastelander (only cleaner) but acted like a gentleman fueled speculation. He kept his past and his private life just that, though—past, and private. It was like the world was in love with Jayden, but Jayden wasn’t sure how he felt about the world and didn’t want to lead it on.

When I got back from confirming that the router was indeed fried, those exotic eyes of his were fixed on the big screen in the main dining area. I came up behind him and stopped, gaping. “What the . . . ?”

Just north of us, people were fighting in the streets and looting, while Hushville—Jayden’s neighborhood—burned.

“Short version?” Jayden said without turning around, “They busted the wrong guy for the Taylor murders, so they released him. He lasted a whole three hours.”

“They didn’t give him police protection?”

“He was under police protection when it happened. Now everybody has a conspiracy theory, and apparently with every conspiracy theory this week, you get a free Molotov cocktail kit. Speaking of which . . . ” He rewound a few seconds and paused on a burning apartment building that I recognized as his. “Great firebomb, huh?”

“Wow. I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged, his back still to me. “I carry everything really important with me.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want me to leave you alone?”

He paused, as if considering. “No.”

“Okay. But know what? Fuck cleaning. Help me get the trash out, then haul your duffel bag upstairs. You’re staying at my place tonight.”

Jayden turned and looked at me as though I were speaking Swahili. “Your place?”

“You just lost your apartment to a xenophobic asshole with a fire fetish, and you need crash space. Friends do that kind of stuff for each other.”

That earned me a confused look. “No, I just . . . Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” He seemed utterly bewildered. So much for his famed stoicism and unflappability. Ah, Jayden. Such a strange, strange boy. I ran up to get my coat and pull on a pair of jeans under my dress, and Jayden and I dragged the first can out into the alley.

I remember the air tasted of cold grease and wet pavement. I remember the electric buzz of the street lamp, and the way its dirty light turned the drizzle into sparse gray streaks like anime rain. I remember the exact cadence of the trash can’s scraping and banging as we dragged it toward the dumpster. How screwed up do things have to get before taking out the trash is a fond memory worth replaying in your head?

We didn’t hear the patrol team until they entered the mouth of the alley, running hard toward us, shouting at us to get inside. The woman’s name was Lawson. She’d lost her helmet, and a sheen of blood covered the left side of her face. Her partner, Hall, had a crack running down the side of his faceplate, and his body armor was shredded in places. They both carried their weapons at the ready, scanning the roofline as they ran.

Before they’d even finished their warning, a clot of shadow and sickening angles detached from the rest of the dark. The Shashashkuhun slaughter-spider—How did I know that?—dropped from the roof and—The Shashashkuhun and the bad people are making us walk a long way again. I don’t say how tired I am because I am almost eight years old, and that means I’m a big girl, and because it would make Mommy feel bad that she can’t carry me that far. Mommy and me are in our nightgowns because we were asleep when they—Where were these images coming from?—landed in the alley behind them. It was an impossible thing, eight or nine feet tall, all mottled ochre-and-black chitin, with eight spiked and bladed spiderlike legs from which it took its name, serrated mandibles beneath great protruding compound eyes, and short, thick, writhing tentacles suspended from the underside of a bulbous, misshapen central body.

I shouted my own warning, but Hall was already emptying his magazine at the thing as he backed toward us. Lawson either tripped or dove in our direction, twisting in mid-air to land on her back. She raised her shotgun, and—grabbed us, and it was really late because both moons were out, but they let us put on our boots before they made us start walking. Mommy tried to fight them and she shot one of them but they beat her up and cut her cheek really bad. But she is still the prettiest lady in the whole wide world. It was real people, not Shashashkuhun, but they don’t act like real people. Mommy says they have bad things inside them called Qlippoth. I think they are telling the Shashashkuhun what—made it roar as she hit the pavement.

The monster’s cry was like a foghorn made of cats and feedback, a spike that shoved through both eardrums. Lawson had hurt it, taken out one leg, in fact, but it wasn’t enough, and Hall’s automatic gunfire cut off with a sickening, meat cleaver sound as the spider sliced through his neck. Hall’s head flew from his shoulders and bounced against the alley wall while the spider eviscerated his body before it could hit the ground, as if he weren’t–to do. A man tried to run away today, but they caught him, and instead of shooting him a Shashashkuhun stuck one of its sharp arm/leg things in him and cut him open and played with his insides until he stopped screaming, and I cried, but I won’t cry anymore, because I’m a big girl, and—dead enough already. Even as far back as Jayden and I stood, hot, sticky wetness splattered our faces.

The monster tried to leap toward us, but its missing leg threw it off balance. Lawson’s shotgun was out of ammo, so she fumbled out her .45 and taunted the slaughter-spider while edging toward the side of the alley opposite the door. Sacrificing herself—big girls don’t cry. The demons usually kill everybody, but now they only kill people who try to run away or stop walking before they tell us to stop or people who fall down and can’t walk anymore, but sometimes when somebody falls down they let somebody else make a travois, which is a kind of sled thing that you drag—to give us a chance to get away. My gun was in my purse inside, but even if I’d had it on me, I couldn’t loosen my grip on the trash can, let alone force myself to move.

I caught Jayden’s eye. I’d never before realized–when I feel like crying I think about Daddy. Daddy is a general, which is a kind of soldier who tells other soldiers what to do. He is a long way away fighting other Shashashkuhun, but when he comes to save us, the Shashashkuhun and the bad people are going to be sorry. I am going to be a soldier like Daddy when I grow up and—how much he and I communicated without speaking, but with that look, I knew we’d done the same math. One of us might—just might—make it to the door. If we left the other one to die along with Lawson.

Fuck that.

Once I’d made the decision, the tension drained from my body—I am nine years old, and I have been in the prison camp for over a year. They tell me it is time for the laboratory again, but if I pick someone else to go, they will leave me alone today. If I choose my mother to go they will leave me alone for a month. They seem surprised when my answer is to hold out my wrists for the cuffs. I am the daughter of a general and a hero. I do not run, or let others take my pain. And no matter what they do to me, I won’t let them see how scared I am—the way the fear had, sublimating into the night and leaving me perfectly relaxed. Jayden gave me that ‘our little secret’ smile, and I knew he got it. He understood. Not just what I was about to do, but why.

When anything you do will end in death, make your final act one of defiance.

And so it was that we, about to die, in the most futile and ridiculous gesture in the history of futile and ridiculous gestures, screamed our defiance in the face of death, and charged the monster that would surely kill us.

With a fucking trash can.

We slammed into the slaughter-spider and fell hard, with the trash can bouncing between those giant legs and spilling its slippery contents out onto the already-slick blacktop. The slaughter-spider screamed at the impact, even louder than when Lawson had shot it, and nearly toppled. A serrated leg missed me by inches, and I rolled away, but I’d only be able to dodge for so long. My only regrets were that since I hadn’t properly prepared this body, I would die along with it—again, where the hell did that thought come from?—and that so many things would go unsaid between me and those I cared about. Including Jayden, if I was being honest.

Something hard in my coat pocket bit into my side as I rolled. I’d forgotten about the taser I almost always took with me when I left the restaurant. Even if it was still charged, it wasn’t salvation, but at this point salvation wasn’t an option. Victory was what mattered, and victory was nothing more nor less than continuing to fight until the inevitable happened. I pulled out the taser, flipped off the safety, and sent 50,000 volts into the center of that mass of tentacles, along with all the fury I could muster. The slaughter-spider jerked momentarily, and Lawson took advantage to pick up a piece of steel rebar from the junk pile in the alley and plunge it glove-deep into one of the slaughter-spider’s faceted eyes. Jayden followed with a sharp piece of broken two-by-four into the other.

And as though someone had flipped a switch marked ‘alive/dead,’ the slaughter-spider fell . . . in slow motion, like those television broadcasts of building demolitions. After one final spasm, it was still, and the alley was silent for several seconds except for the buzz of the streetlight. After barely long enough to begin to accept that we weren’t dead, answering cries to the spider’s death scream split the night.

We staggered inside the restaurant as the first new creature hit the pavement, and got the bars across the door just before another slammed against it. I slapped my palm against the ward sigil and spoke the syllables to activate it, then ran to the front and did the same there. After grabbing my gun and other weapons from upstairs and activating still more wards, I hit the ‘dim all’ switch and met up with the others in the kitchen. Lawson used a cabinet as cover, her shotgun aimed at the door, and Jayden . . .

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I’d been gone perhaps two minutes, but when I returned, Jayden stood transformed, a grim-faced cross between a modern wastelander and a wild warrior from legend, in a combination of armored biker leathers and Fay armor. The hilts of two matching blades extended over his shoulders, and his jacket sleeves were pushed up to reveal Sidhe archery gauntlets—the real kind, not the department store knockoffs. Other weapons clung to various parts of his body, strategically placed so as not to impede movement—blades, throwing disks, bolas, and quivers and bandoliers of bolts and arrows for the quick-load mini-crossbow in his hand and the compound bow housed in a slender case across his back. He shrugged bashfully—Jayden? Bashful?—when he caught me staring. So this was what he meant when he said he carried everything important with him.

The booming of another hit on the door jerked my attention away from Jayden. After a few more tries, though, the spiders seemed to realize that it was futile, and ceased their efforts.

Now that we had stopped racing time, time slowed to let us catch up. Whether from the endorphin rush or something else, I felt disconnected, an observer watching from inside myself. In the dimness, Lawson and Jayden were pale, oh so pale, and heartbreakingly beautiful against the gray and charcoal shadows. I stood with chest heaving alongside them, seeing and feeling and hearing everything as though for the first time, in love with it all. Because we, who moments before had been dead, were alive and more than alive, were filled with life until we could burst from the pressure as it strained against the insignificant scraps of skin and flesh that could barely contain it.

A single glossy drop of blood formed at the tip of Lawson’s finger, creating itself until it was real enough to float downward and finally join its comrades who had already emigrated to the floor to form a puddle, and Lawson was falling, falling, falling behind it as if to join the puddle herself.

I shook out of my trance barely in time to help Jayden take Lawson’s weight. She was conscious, but weak. “It’s okay,” I told her, “We’re going to get you taken care of. Did you call for backup?” Lawson shook her head weakly, closed her eyes, and made a sound between a chuckle and a sob. “Nobody left to call. Even if the radio worked, nobody left to . . . ” she trailed off and seemed to fold in on herself. I’d seen what that thing did to Hall. I didn’t need her to tell me what had happened to the rest of her squad.

We got Lawson into the VIP lounge and onto a folded-out hide-a-bed, and raided the crisis closet. There was more in there than I’d realized. We patched up Lawson as well as we could and got a saline drip going with something for pain and nausea. It was only after I’d given her naproxyn, though, that I thought to wonder if it thinned the blood the way aspirin did. What if she had internal injuries? Was there anything else I was supposed to be doing? At least I remembered to elevate her feet and make sure she had plenty of blankets. Beyond that, it was a matter of, ‘do no harm,’ with a supersized side order of, ‘hope I don’t fuck this up.’

Damn it, I wasn’t qualified for any of this. Grandpa was the one with the certifi—Duh! Grandpa could talk me through this, and we needed to get word out anyway. Our phones may as well have been paperweights, though. No signal, whether due to the riots or something else. If all else failed, Lawson said that after too long with no contact, it was corporate policy to send in what amounted to the wrath of the gods to investigate. The restaurant was pretty much a fortress—even the ‘glass’ was actually transluminum—so theoretically speaking, all we had to do was stay buttoned up for a few hours and wait for help to arrive. And not go nuts in the meantime.

I’d cut away most of Lawson’s uniform, but the rest needed to come off to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Her partner had died saving us, and I’d be damned if she followed suit because of me. I asked Jayden to leave the room, but Lawson put a hand on his arm, winked, and flashed a weak smile. “‘Sokay. I like your boyfriend,” she said.

“Just a friend. It’d probably break my ego to date somebody that much prettier than me.”

“‘Just a friend,’ my ass.” She smiled and closed her eyes, slurring her words, and rolled her head around on her pillow. Her own smile didn’t so much fade as disappear. “Thanks, guys. You did good. I just wish . . . ” Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, and it didn’t take a psychic to know how that sentence was supposed to end.

After helping Lawson down some broth with a little liquid protein and Nutri-All added, we let her rest. When we were sure she was asleep, and that her breathing and pulse were regular, Jayden and I crept out of the room to treat our own injuries, mostly scrapes and bruises.

It seemed like there was something about what had happened in the alley even stranger than the attack. A flash of knowledge or memory. But whenever I tried to access it, it slipped away. Probably the kind of thing that takes over for some people in emergency situations, like the woman who supposedly lifted a car off of her toddler, or the accountant who found himself standing over the bodies of three would-be muggers, with no memory of what had happened. The other disturbing thing was that I was so . . . blank. I should have been shaking. I should have been horrified at Hall’s death, and at the deaths of the rest of their squad. It’s not that I didn’t care, I just kept feeling like it should have affected me more. We should have been . . . I don’t know, mourning them or something. Maybe I couldn’t let myself feel it yet.

I knelt behind Jayden on a tablecloth on the floor, dabbing antiseptic onto a scrape on his upper back. “So everybody dies,” I muttered, “and we end up with road rash. That’s fair.”

“That’s survivor’s guilt talking,” he said.

“Yeah, well.”

“Lawson’d be dead if not for you. We all would.”

“I had help.”

“Your idea, though.”

I’d been swabbing the same area for maybe a full minute, no longer aware of what I was doing, until Jayden spoke again. “You were wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“About the ‘prettier than you’ thing. I don’t think anybody is. Nobody I’ve ever seen. And I see into the infra-red and ultra-violet, so I see more than you’d think.” I could almost hear that, ‘our little secret’ smile. “It’s not a peeping thing,” he added quickly, “It’s just my normal vision.”

Blatant change of subject, but not unwelcome. I’m pretty sure I blushed. “Yeah, well thanks. But hey, I like the way I look and all, and I’m not fishing for a compliment here, but—realistically speaking—if you’ve never seen better, you must’ve been living in a cave.”

“Actually,” he said, “a Graealfinsidhe separatist conclave, until five years ago. It was carved into the side of a mountain, so I guess it counts as a cave. Never talked to anyone about it until now. I stand by my statement, though. I decided that if we lived, I was going to tell you that. Tell you everything.”

I blinked. “I’m . . . honored. And I’m not complaining—I mean, look, you’re not the only one who decided out there to reveal some things; guess almost dying does that. It’s just, the guy I’ve been crushing on for two years now is suddenly . . . Why me?”

I caught myself stroking his hair, and was about to stop when he tilted his head into my hand and sighed. We sat there like that for a while before he answered. “I want you to know me.”

Coming from him that night, there in the dark on the hardwood floor with the smells of grime and antiseptic assailing our senses, with death waiting outside the door, those were the sweetest words ever spoken. Sweeter in their simple, naked honesty, than any candle-lit declaration of love, more beautiful in their artlessness than any sonnet delivered on bended knee. I couldn’t stop the wetness on my cheeks, and I didn’t want to.

“Yeah, well, there’s something I want you to know, too.” I pulled him back against me, brushing my lips along his cheek. He turned his body in my arms until we found each other’s mouths and lost ourselves, and entwined around each other on that blood-streaked tablecloth on what might be the last night of our lives was the only place I ever wanted to be.

We dozed, and when we woke it was to Uncle Garston standing over us like a bearded, glowering mountain of muscle in blood-stained flannel, with one bandage around his head and another showing through a rip in his shirt, wearing a flak vest that didn’t quite close around his girth. In addition to his omnipresent Desert Eagle in its holster, he clenched an assault rifle in a hand so huge and meaty that the rifle looked almost like a child’s toy.

“Where’s your half of Eli’s find-me charm?” he growled.

“What? What happened?”

His nostrils flared, and he snorted like a bull about to charge. “Did I fucking stutter? Where is the gods-damned—” He stopped, took a breath, and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Sorry. L-word, all right? I didn’t mean to . . . Just, where is it?”

I told him where it was, and he sprinted out of the room. Jayden and I dressed hurriedly, and Lawson called out from the VIP lounge asking what the shouting was about. “That’s what I’m going to find out,” I told her. I ran upstairs, with Jayden behind me, to find Garston in the kitchen scattering the contents of drawers onto the floor.

“Here,” I said, “Right where I said it was. Now stop being Uncle Growly long enough to tell me what’s going on.”

“They took him. Don’t know why, or why they didn’t kill us, but those bastards—”

“Who? The Shashashkuhun? The Qlippoth?”

“Of course, the Shashashkuhun. Who else . . . ” He looked at me with an undecipherable expression. “How did you know about the Shashashkuhun?”

Yeah, how did I know? “I—I don’t know. But when the slaughter-spider attacked last night—”

“They came here?” Garston roared loudly enough to be painful. “Why didn’t you say so? Did they hurt you? And you, boy,” he turned to Jayden, “where were you when this happened?”

Gods. Could I get one question at a time? “I’m fine,” I said, “and Jayden helped kill one of the damn things, so you can back up out of his grill right now. They killed an entire patrol squad except for Lawson, though. She’s downstairs. But this is . . . ” I shook my head. This wasn’t right. “People don’t suddenly know things like that, Garston. And then not even wonder how.” My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. Anyone would be freaked out, but why now instead of last night? Where was this panic coming from? “But that’s exactly what I did. I haven’t thought about it since—and when I do, I get these pictures in my head. There were two moons, and we were walking to some prison camp or something, and I was a little girl, and they . . . ” I could hear my voice rising in pitch, but couldn’t stop the words from spilling out or the images from growing more and more solid. Garston and Jayden moved toward me, but I held up my hand. I could do this on my own. I slowed my breathing and counted my breaths, an exercise I had learned as a little girl. One . . . Two . . . Three . . . Little by little, the panic faded, and I opened my eyes.

“Better?” Garston asked.

“Oh, hell no,” I said. “Or yeah, better, but not good. What’s happening to me?”

“Something your grandpa and I were afraid was coming, and that fucker last night must’ve kick-started things. ’Swhy we made you learn all that meditation and shit. Important thing to know is you’re not crazy, okay? But right now, I have to go find Eli, and we’ll explain it all when we get back. Just try not to think about any of it until then.”

“No, you can explain on the way.”

Garston shook his head. “This ain’t a discussion, K-girl. I want you safe. Don’t worry about me. I’m just gonna find out where they’re headed and call in the big guns soon as I get someplace I can get a signal.”

“You’re right, it’s not a discussion. We’ll take my car; it’s faster, and I just charged it.”

Garston opened his mouth to argue, but Jayden jumped in. “Quick question,” he said, “Do you really think anything you say is going to stop her from following you?”

My uncle glowered, but Jayden spread his hands, “I didn’t make the rain, I’m just reporting the weather.”

Garston looked from one of us to the other and threw up his hands—narrowly missing my spice rack with his AR-15—and, grumbling, led the way back downstairs.

Jayden, with his preternatural senses, rode in the passenger seat with Garston’s AR-15, once again in full warrior regalia, while Garston rode in the back with the find-me. I drove. It was calming to have something active on which to focus.

“So,” I said once we were under way, “Tell me if I’ve got this right. Monsters kidnap Grandpa Eli and attack the restaurant, and you know all about them, right down to their inseam sizes, but you don’t think to say anything until they show up and actually start killing people? Oh, and I have random surprise knowledge and first-person scenes from a science fiction movie popping into my head, and you knew that was coming, too, but didn’t think to warn me about that, either. So if I sound just a little bit pissed off, it’s probably because I am. Care to explain?”

“It wasn’t . . . We never thought they’d come here, and just . . . you were so happy, not remembering. You could grow up and have a life this time. Meet a nice boy. Or girl. Hell, a dozen of each and a fucking toaster if that was what you wanted. But you’re the one that made yourself forget shit, and we figured you had a reason and we shouldn’t fuck with it. Maybe it was wrong, but if we’re guilty of anything, it’s trusting your own subconscious, so if you’re looking to be pissed off at somebody, you better put yourself right at the top of the list.”

Ouch. I pretended to focus on traffic for a little while.

“Sorry.”

“‘Sokay.”

“So, whatever ‘it’ was, it was that bad?”

Garston snorted. “Pardon the old war-dog cliché, but I still wake up screaming some nights, and that’s after decades with a PTSD specialist. See, we got what they call desensitized after a while, so they stepped things up a little at a time. When I remembered, though, it was fifteen years all at once, including the stuff at the end that would’a broke anybody unless they worked their way up to it. The good part is it doesn’t sound like it’s hitting you all at once, and like I said, there’s all that meditation and shit.”

“And I still have no idea what ‘it’ is. Looks like we’ve reached the point where not remembering is more dangerous than remembering, though. Agreed? Make me understand here.”“Eli’s better at this kind of thing than I am. It’ll sound crazy coming from me.”

“I challenge you to top the last couple of hours in the crazy department.”

“Okay. Here goes.” He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and went for it. “Your Grandpa Eli is a demon hunter who travels between universes by performing a ritual that lets him die and come back in other worlds, and he’s actually your father from your first life. You and I and a bunch of others got taken prisoner by the Shashashkuhun demons—who were working with the Qlippoth demons at the time—when you weren’t quite eight years old. Everybody thought we were dead, but we weren’t. We spent about the next fifteen years as live test subjects for demons, until we finally escaped.”

I pulled onto the interstate. The electric hum of the motor, the tires on the wet road, and the wind buffeting us from outside were the only sounds for a while. The drizzle had picked up into rain, and sandwiched between the black sky and blacker road, I struggled to see through the falling gray that sucked my headlight beams into limbo.

“So. You escaped. We escaped, I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“By doing this death ritual thing.”

“Yeah. We got separated, and you took forever to get here, but one day you just sort of . . . coalesced is the word Eli uses. This perfect, beautiful little baby girl, looking exactly the way you used to. Eli picked you up and held you for the longest time, staring at your face and crying, and I said, ‘See? All the good things you’ve done, your karma finally caught up to you.’ And he said, ‘Yes, she finally has.’”

I drove. And I admit that I sniffled a little.

After a few minutes Garston said, “Well? You gonna say something?”

“This is probably the biggest understatement of the century, but it’s a lot to take in.”

“I warned you.”

“You did.”

Still trying to figure things out, we compared notes on the attacks. When Grandpa and Garston saw the riot footage and couldn’t reach me by phone, they headed to Garston’s truck to come check on me. That was when the demons hit them, about an hour and a half after the attack on the restaurant, roughly twelve-thirty or so, when we were still huddled in the restaurant thinking the monsters were right outside. Knowing all that didn’t help much in the ‘figuring things out’ department, though.

Jayden had been silent most of this time except for helping fill in details of our fight with the slaughter-spider. When I glanced over, he was frowning.

“So,” I said, “Regret getting involved with me yet, or do I need to work on that?”

“You’ll have to work on it. Had a thought, though. I’m still not getting a signal, and . . . ” He clicked on the radio. Nothing but static all the way up and down the dial. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” I said.

I caught up as close as we dared to the find-me charm, which bought us a few minutes to pull over and search for the jammer. Once we found it, in a waterproof casing fastened to the inside of a rear wheel-well, disabling it was simple. For something a little bigger than a pack of cigarettes, though, it had certainly caused enough trouble.

Jayden took the wheel when we got back on the road so we could run without headlights, thus saving juice and making ourselves stealthier at the same time. Garston made the call. Not just to anybody, but to Malachai Traeger, who doesn’t need a code name because, hey, he’s Malachai fucking Traeger. He might be a sweetheart when he’s not working, but according to local legend, he’s faced down gods. No, that’s not hyperbole. Handy having someone like that as a family friend, especially considering there was no way we could afford him otherwise.

Just knowing that Kai was on the job did wonders for morale, and we whooped triumphantly. Okay, I whooped. Jayden smiled, but for him, that counted. Uncle Garston’s whoop sounded more like, “Would you please shut your mouth while I’m on the phone?” but I claim creative license.

Why wouldn’t we be jubilant? We had a plan, and professionals to carry it out. We had a big head start, but Kai said he’d catch up as soon as he could, and make calls on the way to assemble a small recon team and get someone to the scene of each attack to do forensics. The recon team would figure out exactly what they were up against, and call in extra support as necessary. All we had to do was point the way.

The find-me led, and we followed, with occasional updates to give Kai our route. Once we got out of range of the last cell tower, we dropped emergency reflectors and other expendables at exits and intersections to blaze a trail, and considering we were well into unpatrolled territory at that point, I strapped on Lawson’s body armor just to be safe.

On a sketchily-paved county road at the corner of nowhere and nothing, something pinged the fender, and the front right tire blew with a ‘whump’ like a glove hitting a punching bag, Jayden fought for control and lost, and the world did cartwheels as the car flipped sideways into the ditch, coming to rest halfway down with wheels in the air. Jayden and I extricated ourselves from our seat belts and air bags while I called out to Garston to see if he was okay. He didn’t answer, and when I turned to check on him, he was gone, along with one of the rear doors.

With Jayden’s night vision, it didn’t take long to find Uncle Garston, laying spread-eagled in the bottom of the ditch with his head at an unnatural angle, and wheezing with every breath. I fought back the impulse to throw myself across him the way I had as a little girl, and knelt beside him instead. Jayden understood more quickly than I did what was happening, or maybe just accepted it more readily, and stood silently nearby.

“Least it doesn’t hurt.” Garston said. “Can’t feel shit, to be honest.”

“Kai should be here soon. We’ll get you to a hospital and you’ll be—”

“Come on, K-girl. This ain’t my first body. I know when one’s going.”

I felt like I was six years old again. “You can’t just give up. You’re my Uncle Growly, and you’re tougher than anything, remember?”

“Difference between giving up and knowing when to cut your losses. I need you to do something for me, now. It’s hard, and I don’t want to ask, but—”

“No. No, don’t make me do that again. I can’t.” Again?

“Yes, you can, K-girl. I don’t need the ritual, either, not if it’s quick and clean. If I’m stuck in this body for too much longer it’s over for real, though.”

“I call bullshit. You’re going to hang the fuck on, and that’s all there is to it.” I knew better. But until I admitted it, it wouldn’t be real.

“Karma, I’m asking you to do this because I can’t do it myself. You’ll get past it. Jayden’ll help you with that. I’d ask him, but I know you—even though he’d be saving me, you’d never be able to look at him again and I want better for you than that. So I’m begging you now. Please, do this one last thing for me.”

He coughed, drew in another wheezing breath and coughed again. I ran my fingers over that tangled, salt-and-pepper mess he called a beard and kissed him on the cheek, and after a little bit of struggle, I managed to free the Desert Eagle from its holster and hold it somewhat steadily in both hands.

“L-word, Uncle Growly,” I said.

“Love you, too, K-girl. I’ll be seeing you again.”

Garston closed his eyes. It took me a while, but I pulled the trigger. The big Desert Eagle knocked me on my ass and punched me in both eardrums. I turned my face skyward and howled while the rain sluiced thick, sticky warmth from my face.

And I remembered. Not everything, not even a lot, but enough to begin to understand just how fucked up everything was. To understand why they hadn’t wanted me to remember. Why I had made myself forget. Jayden stood back while I let it out. If he’d put his arms around me or offered any kind of support, I don’t think I could have handled it. He seemed to know that.

Although it’s the worst place to find it, there is strength in pain. Not if you stuff it down or deny it or revel in it, but if you accept the pain as yours. When I was done crying, I used that strength to pull myself from the mud, and hand in hand, Jayden and I helped each other up the slope to the car to assess the damage. Jayden made a frustrated sound beside me, and flipped open his cell phone to show me the bullet hole in the fender.

And that was when I put it together. “Jayden, this isn’t about Grandpa. It never was. This is about me.”

I laid it out for him.

Whoever planned this had learned my routine, knew it would be just me and one other person on Tuesday night, and knew we’d be in the alley with our hands full at some point. The idea was simple. Grab me and get the hell out of there. The spider was never supposed to kill me. But because of the riot, the Plaza had a bunch of extra security, and Jayden and I changed our schedule, so not only were the—call them minions—not all in place, they’d been spotted. Once they’d tipped their hand, they only had a few hours to act, so plan B was to grab Grandpa and use him as bait, leaving Garston alive to come tell me. If they just wanted me dead, why a jammer instead of a bomb, either on the car or in the alley? Or why not a sniper in the alley? And why would someone clever enough to think of making us carry our own jammer not think to look for a find-me charm? They had to have found it, but instead of getting rid of it, they incorporated it into their plan. Then, when we got to where they wanted us to be, they shot out the tire to keep us in place.

There were easier ways to do this. All of it. That someone had gone to all this trouble to show they could outsmart me and pull my strings meant this was something personal, and considering my age when the Shashashkuhun had taken us, it had to be something to do with the prison camp.

It took maybe thirty seconds to explain it all. “So, what do you think?”

“I think my girlfriend is either a brilliant detective or a criminal mastermind. What’s our next move?”

I had no idea.

Garston had brought an extra rifle and plenty of ammo. Jayden and I gathered everything and scrabbled to the edge of the ditch. The tree line was perhaps a hundred yards away on the other wide of the road, but in the darkness it may as well have been miles. I was thankful for Jayden’s eyes.

“I’ve got some movement, but nothing much,” Jayden said “They’re either waiting for their boss, or they just want to make us sweat.”

“Probably the latter,” I said. “We screwed up their plan. Whoever it is, now it’s even more important to show how clever they are. Both for their own ego and to save face. They’re going to want to talk. And gloat. I’ll try to stall them until Kai’s crew gets here. If I say anything horrible that doesn’t sound like the me you know, and I probably will—”

“No, I get it. ‘Words are weapons, sharper than knives.’”

Devil Inside. Now there was an appropriate reference. I nodded. “Just wanted to make sure.”

We watched the tree line in silence for a while. Rather, Jayden watched the tree line. I couldn’t see that far in the dark, so I watched Jayden and tried to stop shivering.

“So,” I said, “Bet you’re wishing you’d stayed at the restaurant about now.”

“No. Gotta admit, though, I normally don’t do the whole monster-fighting thing until the third date. But you’re special.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls who almost get you killed.”

Jayden seemed about to say something when a man’s megaphone-amplified voice shouted across the field. “Karma Rodriguez.”

“It speaks,” I shouted back. “And it knows my name. Should I be impressed?”

“You should remember mine. It’s Brallus. I’m sending over a field phone so you don’t have to shout.”

“Anything that steps out of that tree line dies, Brallus. Especially if it’s carrying something I think might go ‘boom.’” I was already getting hoarse, though. After a quick exchange we determined that both sides had access to walkie talkies, and that Brallus had no need for signal jammers this far from the closest cell tower.

“Alright, Brallus,” I said into the walkie-talkie, “Good people died tonight because of you. If that was supposed to get my attention, it worked.” I wanted to scream at him to give my grandfather back, but if there was any chance at all of that happening, I had to downplay how important he was to me.

“You expect me to believe you’re upset about those native guards?” he said, “What happened to the cold little demon-bitch who whored out her own mother for scraps and special treatment?”

What? Jayden caught my eye, and I shrugged, nonplussed. “You know that’s not how it was. And which of us is working with demons? I could swear that was a Shashashkuhun slaughter-spider I killed a few hours ago.”

“A temporary alliance. And better the Shashashkuhun than monsters like you. See, I know why the Qlippoth’s little experiment worked on you when it killed everybody else they tried it on. You were evil to begin with. That thing they put inside of you wasn’t an invader, it was a soulmate.”

Okay, best not to think about the Qlippoth putting anything inside me for now. Probably something I was better off not remembering. “Brallus, I was a child when they captured me.”

“Captured you? Took you home, you mean. Put you in with the real prisoners to spy on them, and anyone who caught on, you had your followers kill. Then when you and your little band escaped, you left the rest of us there.”

“Okay, do you see the flaw in your logic here? If I was somehow serving the Qlippoth, why would I want or need to escape?”

“How should I know how a demon thinks? After what you did to my brother, I stopped even trying to understand you.”

Riiiiiight. Not like I’d really expected logic to work, anyway. “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No idea? His name was Kolb. You used your powers to seduce him, then had him ripped to pieces when he finally gave in. As if he had a choice. I can still hear him screaming.”

Speaking of screaming, I didn’t need the walkie to hear him at that point. If the idea was to stall, as opposed to goad, I’d better take things down a notch. I keyed the mic, but before I could speak, the world went away. This world, anyway.

The stone is rough against my back, and Kolb has his hand over my mouth. His brother Brallus is supposed to be keeping watch, but he keeps looking at me funny, and he says they shouldn’t do this, but he breathes harder when he looks at me. Kolb thinks I am afraid of them, but I am just waiting for them to make a mistake. When Kolb tries to rip my top off, I bite his hand as hard as I can and knee him between the legs the way Mommy taught me. I still have a piece of his hand in my mouth, and it is gross, but I can’t think about that now. I spit it out and dig my fingernails into his eyes and scream as loud as I can. And then Mommy is there . . . That twisted . . . And he called me a monster? When I could speak again I screamed back hoarsely. “I was nine years old, you sick fuck. I’m glad Kolb is dead. I hope it hurt like hell and took a long, long time, and I’m just sorry they could only do it once. Now give me back my grandfather, you piece of shit, or I swear I will tear you open with my bare hands and feed you your own intestines.”

I was shaking with rage, and when Jayden touched my arm I nearly decked him before I regained control. He raised an eyebrow and indicated the tree line by inclining his head toward it. By the time I followed his eyes, he was already sending arrow after arrow across the field. The Shashashkuhun were attacking. There were at least a dozen or so—I was a little too occupied to count—a mix of slaughter-spiders and more humanoid-looking creatures—slothor, something inside me said—laying down suppressing fire with automatic rifles, but considering what it had taken to kill just one already-wounded slaughter-spider, we were well and truly fucked. So much for Brallus wanting me alive. The only thing to do was go down fighting, but that would probably be quicker and cleaner than whatever Brallus had originally planned. I picked up the AR-15 and took aim, and Jayden lay down his bow and grabbed the other rifle.

“I’m sorry, Jayden,” I shouted. Like sorry would cover this. “They don’t care about you. If you run they might let you go.”

Jayden’s only response was to keep firing. I had to give him the out, even though I knew he wouldn’t take it. Part of me found comfort in knowing he’d be there until the end, and the rest of me hated myself for that.

“I love you,” I yelled above the sound of gunfire. I should have said it months ago, and I might not get a chance to say it later.

“You’d better,” he said as he swapped out magazines, “And I love you, too.” He tried to give me one of those ‘our little secret’ smiles, but failed, and we pretended not to see the fear on each other’s faces. We downed two demons, but although that made them a little more cautious, they were still too tough and healed too quickly. By the time they were thirty yards away, we had only taken one more out of the fight, and were nearly out of ammunition. It would be hand to hand with the remaining ones soon, and realistically speaking, that wouldn’t last very long. We were about to die. The only question was whether we could take any more of them with us.

And that was when our miracle arrived. At first I thought it was more Shashashkuhun, but no, the demons were taking flanking fire from the roadside perpendicular to ours, and a three-wheeler with a sidecar leapt over the adjoining road and sped toward us down the center of the ditch. Malachai Traeger, tall and lean in brown armored leathers and that Boba Fett-looking helmet of his, jumped off the trike before it even came to a full stop, letting it stall out, and a slender Aosidhe woman in ill-fitting rust-colored gear followed from the sidecar, carrying four assault rifles with jungle clips. If I knew Kai, and I did, they’d be loaded with something to give us an edge. She tossed one to Kai on the run, and scrambled up the slope to hand one each to Jayden and me before taking a prone position and firing. She and Kai squeezed off disciplined three-round bursts, and Jayden and I tried to follow suit, focusing on the same targets. The Shashashkuhun didn’t simply fall back or retreat, they scrambled for the tree line. About half of them made it, and the gunfire changed to occasional shots and bursts as targets became less visible.

The Aosidhe woman took off toward the other end of the ditch. Kai waved me a little further down the slope and plopped down next to me, flipping up his faceplate. “Would’ve been here sooner, but someone left a surprise for us. And by the way, that trash can did quite a bit of damage. Not fatal on its own, but more than it should have. Same with the taser.”

“So their weaknesses are aluminum and electricity?”

“Nope. I have a theory about that, but—”

The radio squawked. Brallus wanting to know if I was still there. “Yeah, I’m here, Brallus. You’re down a few troops, though. Seems like this might be a good time for you to surrender.”

“Not when I still have something you want.”

I made sure the mic was off, and explained to Kai what was going on, then asked, “Can your people get to my grandpa?”

“They’re working on it, but we don’t want to put him in any more danger. Stall.”

Along with everything else, Brallus was playing a power game. He couldn’t just tell me what he wanted—He had to make me ask. “Okay, what do you want?”

“You, demon-bitch.” He didn’t speak the words so much as spit them. “Wearing thrice-blessed iron manacles, in a circle of containment. Then I’ll let the old man go.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Traditional anti-demon thing,” Kai whispered. “This is good. Keep him talking.”

“I see a couple of problems with that,” I said. “The first of which is, gee, wouldn’t you know it, Brallus? I’m fresh out of thrice-blessed iron manacles.”

“Funny. I’ll send over the restraints.”

“And what’s to stop you from double-crossing us once you have me?”

“I don’t think you have much choice.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“He’s rather . . . indisposed.”

“Look, do you see the other hole in your logic here? If I’m this evil demon spawn you claim, why would his life mean enough to me to risk my own?”

“I don’t know, nor do I care about your reasons.” Of course. Hadn’t we established earlier that Brallus was immune to logic? “I’ll give you twenty minutes to decide how important he is to you.”

“If you kill him, you lose your leverage.”

“True, but I don’t have to kill him. How do you think he’d like living without his lips? Or maybe his eyelids?”

That was when I knew that no matter what, even if it cost me my own life, I was going to kill that son of a bitch, and anyone who got in my way.—The worst part isn’t what they do to us. It’s what they make us do to each other. I am strapped to the table trying not to cry while my mother stands over me with a hot iron. They give her a choice. She can take over torturing me, or they will burn out my eyes, one at a time. If she still refuses, they will cut out my tongue—but not all at once. They will draw it out. They make it very clear just how long and how horribly they can make me suffer while keeping me alive and awake.—

“You touch one hair on his head, and I’ll make the prison camp seem like Club fucking Med, motherfucker. I’ll . . . ” I don’t even remember the rest of what I screamed into the walkie-talkie at that point, only that my hands were shaking so badly that I dropped it. I was wiping the mud off when Brallus’ voice broke in again.

“I’ll turn this back on in twenty minutes. Have your answer ready.”

Oh, I had an answer for him, all right. I was going to put him in a hole where no one could hear him scream. I was going to cut off his balls and feed them to him. I was going to—

“You know you can’t hand yourself over, don’t you?” Jayden said.

My voice came out harder than I’d intended. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. You think I don’t understand the risk? Would you do it for someone you love?”

Jayden’s voice was quiet when he answered. “You already know the answer to that.”

Oh, smooth. I was bitching at a man who’d proven twice in the past few hours that he’d stand beside me even if it meant dying. I hung my head, blinking. What the fuck? One minute I was ready to kill, the next, I was fighting back tears.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I said. “It’s just so messed up right now. We started the night being attacked by monsters. And do we run from them like, oh, I don’t know . . . sane people? No, we chase them into an unpatrolled zone like some kind of demon-food delivery service, because yeah, that was bound to turn out well. But what other choice did we have? They took Grandpa and we had to get him back. And Garston . . . I lost one of only two people I consider family tonight—no, correction, I blew his fucking brains out, and I don’t dare even slow down long enough to let myself feel it yet.” I heard my voice rising, felt my control slipping, and I didn’t care. “Apparently my entire family is from some alternate universe, and I’m remembering things from a past life where I was tortured by demons for fifteen years starting when I was eight years old—Let me tell you, it wasn’t a good time. I am this close to completely, absolutely, permanently, and irrevocably losing my fucking shit, and the only reason I haven’t already lost it is that all of this is so utterly bat-shit insane that I can’t even focus enough to go properly crazy. I—”

Jayden knelt and pulled me to him hard, covering my mouth with his in a kiss that, for just that moment, was more real than anything else in existence. Solid and tangible proof of a connection with another human being. One who would support me no matter what the odds. When we broke the kiss Jayden remained, holding me firmly but gently, grounding me.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say, “I just . . . I’m doing the best I can, but I honestly don’t know how much I have left in me. I’m trying to be strong, but I’m so fucking tired of being strong right now.”

“And you are strong, Karma,” Jayden said. “Just stop taking it all on yourself. Nobody’s that strong.”

Kai shook his head and sighed. “The kid’s right,” he said. “Most people’d be ready for a rubber room after half of what you’ve been through in the past—what’s it been, five hours or so? I’ve been close to the edge myself a couple of times, and I deal with fucked-up shit for a living. No shame in needing somebody to pull you back.”

I swallowed and nodded, and Kai continued. “That said, as much as I don’t want to push you any further, we’ve got a deadline to meet. You gonna be okay?”

There was a question I’d heard before. “Ask me that in a couple of years. But let’s do this.”

“Okay. Give me your hands. I have to check something.” Kai knelt where Jayden had been and took both my hands in his. A familiar, subtle energy, both warm and cool at once, circulated through me. Something in Kai called out to that energy, but it was like the call was in a foreign tongue, a friendly language that I could almost, but not quite, understand. Kai became somehow more real, more solid. I had an impression of immensity, of a bright column of light almost too intense to look at, that feathered outward like three sets of giant wings, and of a voice like singing multi-tonal bells and pipes accompanied by a chorus of beautiful, almost human voices. Kai removed his hands from mine, and the vision faded.

“You’re a—” I started.

Kai cut me off. “Don’t go there, it’s not what you think. I’ll explain later, but for now let’s just say the Quiet World is a hell of a lot bigger than most people think. There are some people who don’t even know they’re Quiet Worlders. Like you.”

I swallowed.

“So what am I?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Not the same as me, but similar enough that I’m betting your power—at least one part of it—works about the same way mine does. At least there’s one thing we can both do.”

“Are you telling me I’m a—”

“I said don’t go there. Now about this power . . . ” After he told me I sat blinking, trying to take it in.

“You’re telling me that I turned a trash can into a holy weapon? And I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth.”

Kai winced. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but basically, yeah. You channel energy into objects, and if something’s got a supernatural weakness, well . . . You’ve seen the results. You’ve already done it unconsciously, and we have about ten minutes to figure out how, so let’s get with it.”

When Brallus came back on the air, I told him I was ready. He sent the more humanoid of the remaining Shashashkuhun across, pulling what looked like an old barn door on makeshift runners, marked with containment circles. Assuming they were specifically keyed to demons, they wouldn’t affect me, nor would the blessings on the restraints. Unfortunately, though, the chains would hold me just like they would anybody else. Brallus insisted I strip down to my bra and panties to make sure I wasn’t hiding a weapon, and while that made sense on one level, it was also creepy, considering. The kind of pseudo-succubus he’d convinced himself I was wouldn’t mind stripping, though, and the idea for now was to play into his expectations.

So I stepped up into the containment circle and made a show of it, shimmying and tossing my head as though dancing to some private, raunchy music—which is a lot harder than you’d think when you’re soaked, and shivering uncontrollably. When I got down to my underthings I ran my hands down my sides, did a little wriggle, and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties. “Sure you don’t want me to keep going?” The demon eyed me and licked its black lips as it came closer. Gods, I was going to be sick if the thing actually touched me.

At a word from Brallus, it backed away hurriedly, and someone in the tree line fired a warning shot. “No tricks,” Brallus shouted. “You, with the long hair,” meaning Jayden, “Chain her up. And do it right, or the old man suffers.” So far, so good. Part of the plan depended on either Jayden or Kai getting up onto the platform with me.

The cuffs and collar were fastened to a ring in the middle of the platform by chains that wouldn’t allow me to raise myself up past a crouch, and secured by large, medieval-looking padlocks. As Jayden snapped the last lock in place, I lowered my head, ostensibly in defeat, but in reality to hide my smile at the feel of cold metal hidden beneath my foot and the chemical smell in my nostrils. The drizzle hadn’t let up, and would already be diluting the acid, but all the acid had to do was weaken the wood where the ring was bolted.

It took forever for the monster to slog across in the mud pulling me behind it. This would work, I kept telling myself. For the most part I believed it, too. Until Brallus stepped forward, placed his hand on the platform, and spoke an activating word. After that I was too busy screaming to think about much of anything.

When I came to, I was huddled on my side in the fetal position, shivering, in a pool of my own vomit and urine. At least I’d landed on the multi-tool when I fell, keeping it hidden. The air was damp and cold, but a tent kept the rain off of us. Brallus stood nearby with arms folded, glaring at me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, fairly well-muscled, with close-cropped, thick, dark hair. The overall effect was like someone had brought a G.I. Joe to life. A .45 sat holstered on his right hip, and a coiled whip hung from one wrist by a leather strap.

“Killer turkey sandwich,” I croaked, “No mayo, black coffee, apple pie.”

“You have no idea how difficult it was to treat you like a human being, or to keep my food down while looking at you. And by the way, please try to move again. The outer circle is containment, the inner one is pain, as you’ve already discovered. So sorry your foot was touching it when I turned it on.”

“Kinky. If I were fifteen years younger I bet you’d be creaming yourself. Again.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I was scared shitless, and trying to hide it from him any way I could.

It wasn’t a good tactic. I barely saw the whip coming in time to take the lash on my arms instead of across my face. It was a half-hearted strike and didn’t quite draw blood, but it stung like hell, and I cried out despite myself. The whip gave me an idea, though; I just wasn’t ready to try it yet.

Brallus was red in the face. “Soaked in holy water. It should have burned you, but I guess that’s just one more mystery we’ll have to solve. Some old friends want to see what makes you tick, and I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of it. If there’s anything left when they’re finished, you’re mine. Think about that, demon-bitch.”

I thought about it, alright, and I didn’t like the pictures in my head. “What about The General? Did you let him go?”

In answer, Brallus pointed behind me to where Grandpa was tied to a post by his wrists with his head down on his chest. He was breathing, but unconscious. “I’ll release him at a more appropriate time. For now, though,” He pulled a baby monitor—talk about creep factor—from his cargo pocket, switched it on, and set it on top of the nearby field table. “Feel free to scream at me as much as you like. I’ll be listening.”

He muttered what I supposed were instructions to the monster who’d dragged me here, then swaggered out of the tent. Smug bastard. The man demon growled when it looked my way, but immediately averted its many eyes, as though afraid to look directly at me. I guessed Brallus had him convinced that I was dangerous. I took advantage to inspect the pain ward more closely, careful not to move any part of my body over it. I was no expert, but if I was right about it, my idea should work. I wrapped myself around the ring, and worked it back and forth, covering the motion with fake, body-wracking sobs, augmented occasionally with very real dry heaves from the stink of my own fluids, until I’d gotten it as loose as I thought I could by hand.

I was determined to stay alert for a chance to work on it with the multi-tool, but I was at that point of exhaustion where inanimate objects move in the corners of your eyes and normal background noise becomes voices on a far-away radio. The pain and growling in my stomach reminded me that what little I’d eaten in the past few hours was either smeared all over my skin or lay in a noxious pool beneath me, and the last time I’d felt warm or dry seemed like a lifetime ago.

My body finally said, ‘enough,’ and as if my brain was trying to convince me to stop fighting sleep, I could almost hear a lullaby in a woman’s soft mezzo-soprano, familiar and comforting. I held the song against myself and let it pull me down into the welcome dark.

I couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes, but when I opened my eyes, the demon guard’s misshapen head lolled to one side in sleep. It had to be a trick, I thought at first, but then again, we’d left Brallus short-handed, and who knew how much it took out of these things to heal as quickly as they did?

I turned at a low hiss from Grandpa. He winked at me and wiggled the end of the rope. He’d gotten loose, but held it in place to make it look as though his hands were still bound. Thanks to the baby monitor, we didn’t dare speak, but I managed to pantomime my idea, and urged him to escape. He frowned and shook his head no. I hadn’t really expected him to leave me there, any more than I’d have left him or . . . Gods, I didn’t want to tell him about Uncle Garston. I set to work with the multi-tool, digging around the ring to which my chains were attached. Once I got it out I replaced it, took a deep breath, and with an encouraging look from Grandpa, got ready to put on another act.

“Brallus,” I said toward the monitor. The demon guarding me jerked its head up, awake, but other than that, nothing. “Brallus! Please, I’m cold, and I’m hungry, and I know you don’t care about that, but I’ll tell you things you want to know. All I want is a blanket and some food. I’ll cooperate. I didn’t know how bad it would be without my power.”

Still nothing.

“This body’s getting weaker. It’ll get sick. What if it dies? What then? All this for nothing?”

Something rustled outside, and Brallus entered the tent glowering. He spoke a few words to the demon in an ugly language, and the beast left. I did my best to look small and pitiful and afraid. The afraid part wasn’t hard, and I figured that being scared at least meant I was still sane.

“I sent it for food, water, and blankets. I’ll have it bring them in once we’re done here.”

I bowed my head, doing my best ‘humbled prisoner’ act, and reminded myself that as long as those wards were active I’d be unconscious from pain before I could get my hands around Brallus’ throat. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Don’t thank me. I’d rather watch you suffer.”

I bit my lip. Have to play this just right. I couldn’t have him get pissed and walk away. I needed to get hold of that whip.

I kept my head bowed. “I know. But I’ll keep my end. I’ll tell you everything.”

“And how would I know it was the truth?”

“Because my best chance of survival, or at least a quick death, is to cooperate.”

The best lies contain at least partial truths, and I sprinkled in just enough to make things sound plausible, given that there was no way he’d accept the unvarnished version. Some things I had to blatantly fabricate, though. For instance, I claimed that the riot and Grandpa were both parts of long-term plans to gain power in this world, and that when I agreed to trade myself I did so thinking that Brallus couldn’t hold me (that part was true) and I’d have my pawn back for free. After a few minutes, it was time to bait my hook. With head hung low, I offered to tell the truth about what I had done to his brother, and said that I’d write a confession. He bit, and I started reeling him in.

Another thing about lies. People will buy into almost anything as long as it confirms what they want to believe, and unless I had seriously misunderstood Brallus’ expression when his brother was trying to molest me, Brallus’ tastes ran similar to Kolb’s.

So I spun a Lolita story that would have made Nabokov proud. Although I barely kept from gagging as I did it, I confirmed all the lies people like Brallus and Kolb tell themselves so they can sleep at night, and credited myself demonic powers to further absolve Kolb of responsibility. Brallus’ breathing quickened, and every so often he’d unconsciously moisten his lips with his tongue. Yeah, I know. Makes you want to throw up, doesn’t it?

“And you’d write this out as a confession?” he asked.

I hung my head. “With witnesses, if you want, to prove I wasn’t coerced.”

He steepled his hands and sat watching me. “You know this doesn’t change anything.”

“I know. Still, I was hoping maybe . . . ”

I let the pause hang there until he prompted me. “I knew you’d have an ulterior motive. You were hoping what? That I’d unchain you and let you go?”

I shook my head. “No, just that if I cooperated and told you everything you wanted to know, maybe you wouldn’t turn me over to them.” I wasn’t even sure who ‘they’ were, but I assumed the higher-ups in the Shashashkuhun hierarchy.

“That’s out of my hands.”

“No, you can convince them. And you can . . . use me any way you want.” Emphasis on the ‘use.’ And then, for the bit that would set me free. “And if this body doesn’t please you, I could help you find young girls, like I was back then. Boys, too, if you want them. I could make them either submit or fight back, whichever excites you more.”

His face went slack and pale. The last thing people in denial want is to have their proclivities thrown in their face. “You. Dare.” Brallus stood and unfurled the whip. I crouched and threw my hands in front of me as though cowering, but as the whip wrapped around my forearms and bit into them, I grabbed and pulled. Brallus teetered, off-balance, but didn’t fall. We played tug-of-war, and Brallus was winning until Grandpa threw himself at Brallus’ back and knocked him across his own wards.

The wards flashed with electricity, and Brallus screamed, convulsed, and passed out. I used his body as a bridge to get out of the containment circle, then Grandpa grabbed his sidearm and his keys. Grandpa offered me the .45, but I waved it away in favor of the keys, and told him to deactivate the find-me charm—which would signal Kai and his group to attack. I should have taken the gun and put a bullet into Brallus’ head, but I wanted him awake and alert when I killed him. As I finished with the locks, scrambling noises outside said that at least one demon was on the way back to the tent. I grasped the chains that had held me and swung them in a slow, but accelerating circle while I used what Kai and I had discovered about my power to infuse them with what energy I could.

When tall, dark and revolting poked its ugly head into the tent, I swung my chains with everything I had, and sent it staggering back. The power in the chains flashed, then diminished, but did not completely fade, and the demon’s face blackened across its eyes where I’d hit it. I swung again and again while Grandpa flanked it with Brallus’ .45. On my third blow, the demon’s skull cracked open, spattering me with blood and brains.

Gunfire and other battle noises announced the arrival of our allies, and by the time I’d secured Brallus and stepped out of the tent, the fighting was over. Filthy as I was, I threw my arms around Grandpa’s neck, telling him how much I’d missed him, how worried I’d been, and babbling about Jayden.

Grandpa looked away, with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not your grandfather.”

“I know. Uncle Garston told me. Dad.” I grinned.

“You don’t understand. I mean—”

I heard movement behind me, and turned to see Brallus low-crawling toward the tent flap to escape.

Reunions would have to wait. I ran toward Brallus swinging my chains, and opened a gash across his back with the bolt end of the connecting ring. He bellowed and fell forward, and I went to work on him. Not his head, though. That would be too quick. This man had killed my friends, kidnapped and tortured my father, forced me to kill the other man I thought of as a parent, and those were only the tip of the mountain of things he had to answer for. He rolled onto his back snarling and tried to catch the chain, and got a broken arm for his trouble. He succeeded in pulling me off balance, but I don’t think me landing with my knee in his solar plexus was the result he was going for. While he gasped for breath, stunned, I raised my arms into the air and smashed a double fistful of chain into his face.

Once he was unconscious I let up, simply because it wasn’t as satisfying to hit him when he couldn’t feel it. I wanted to kill him. I wanted it more than I could remember ever wanting anything. But I didn’t. No, not because of some cliché like, ‘he wasn’t worth it,’ or, ‘that would be stooping to his level.’ Oh, hell, no. I could have killed him and slept the sleep of the just, but it came down to a question of practicality. I had questions for the bastard, and if I killed him, I’d never get the answers. I left him to Kai’s tender mercies for the time being.

One of the proxies loaned us a vehicle to get back to civilization, and Jayden and I set out to find where Grandpa-slash-Dad had gotten to. The drizzle had become a downpour by the time we found him on the side of the road staring at the spot where Garston had died. Correction: where I had killed him. I stuffed that thought down as best I could. Kai’s cohorts had already removed the body, but someone must have told him. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved that I didn’t have to break the news, or guilty that he’d had to hear it from someone else. I finally decided on feeling guilty about feeling relieved. Jayden kissed me—yes, vomit and all—and said he’d be close by, then wandered off to give my grandfather and me some time alone.

I stood behind Grandpa and put my hand on his shoulder. I didn’t know what to say, or even whether to call him Grandpa or Dad, so I didn’t say anything. After thirty seconds or so, he broke the silence, and I didn’t think I’d ever heard him sound so frail or tired.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry. I thought I could get Eli back, but then I was . . . He’s in here somewhere, but he’s buried deep.”

My stomach dropped, and my spine turned to ice. I backed away, drawing my nine millimeter, pointing it at the back of his head and thumbing the safety off. “Who are you? What are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my grandfather?”

“I—Nobody. Just another prisoner. Someone who tried to save everybody and failed. You did great, though. Saved everybody I couldn’t, including yourself. Including me. I’ll keep this body alive long enough to get it to a hospital, and then I’ll leave you all in peace.”

I lowered my weapon. “What do I call you?”

He turned toward me, and I averted my eyes to avoid seeing someone else behind that face. “I won’t be around long enough to need a name.”

There was nothing left but to go home. I took the wheel, with Not-Grandpa in the passenger seat and Jayden in the back. In the enclosed space, all the things I hadn’t been able to wash off hit me square in the face. That window had to come down, freezing rain or no. I eased us back to pavement, and then opened up full throttle, trying to outrun my own thoughts.

Nothing. It was all for nothing. I’d failed, utterly and completely, and as if to prove there was no justice in the universe, I was still alive—Then again, maybe there was justice after all. Maybe surviving was part of my punishment.

Which brings me to my laughing-slash-crying jag at the side of the road. The car was too confining, so I drove to the nearest rest stop, got out and walked to a covered picnic table. After a few minutes, Jayden joined me. As he’d already shown, he had a good feel for when to approach me and when to leave me alone.

“I was talking to, uh . . . ” He gestured toward the car.

“I’ve been thinking of him as ‘Not-Grandpa,’ for lack of anything better. And look, I already know I’m not giving him a fair shake. I can’t help it. And yes, I know we should try to help him find another—”

“About that. I know the whole deduction thing is your territory, but as the Watson to your Holmes, I figure I can come up with something once in a while, too.”

“Okay, spill, Watson.”

“Under one condition.”

At Jayden’s insistence, I gave myself a sponge-bath in the ladies’ room while he rinsed my clothes and laid out his thoughts and conclusions the way I’d done with him earlier. When he finished, I stood literally open-mouthed for probably a full minute, letting it sink in. If my power was, as Kai thought, something like his, there was one way to see if Jayden was right.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll wait here for a little while.” Seemed like that boy spent a lot of time waiting for me. Then again, we’d waited almost two years for each other, so we should’ve been used to it by then.

Back at the car I took Not-Grandpa’s hands, over his objections, and focused on finding that same energy I’d felt with Kai.

There were no heavenly choirs, no columns of light. Just a face. Layers of faces, actually. The first one was a facade, the peak of a bearded mountain named Garston. Behind that one was a woman’s face, with long, dark hair, and eyes like mine. A face from another life. My mother.

Although it was Grandpa’s body in front of me, it was still my mother’s face I saw superimposed upon it. She turned away from me, crying. I was almost too stunned to form words, and my mouth opened and closed several times before I could make anything come out. “Mom?” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” she started, but a huge sob cut her off, and for a while, we just held each other and cried.

So much for this all being for nothing.

Maybe we all got what we deserved in the end, after all. We’ll be a family again for the first time in nearly two lifetimes, once we get Dad back from wherever inside himself he's hiding out and find Mom a new body (no idea how we're going to do that, but I have some ideas). Jayden got me, and at the risk of blowing my own horn, I’m not such a bad catch. The patrol officers—after everything I’d seen, I couldn’t believe that death was the end for them. Me, not only was I getting my family back, along with some sort of as-yet-unexplained superpowers, but also quite possibly the most fantastic guy in this or any other universe. I don’t know what I did to deserve any of it, but it must have been something pretty awesome. So even if it sounds corny—and I know it does…

I’m going to call it karma.

#my writing #urban fantasy #hopepunk #writing #karma #quiet world #my fiction #cosmic horror #new day same boulder

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